


Woman, witch or stalker?

by SheyRicci



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyRicci/pseuds/SheyRicci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's new companion is not happy to find out he has a brother. Sam is not happy he has to deal with a possessive girl his brother picked up in a bar. Dean is not happy when his new companion decides Sam is in her way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I dunno Bobby." Dean hesitated; hand on the trunk, ready to push it closed yet not able to do it. "You sure about this?"

"Gavin is a trusted hunter Dean, that hunting cabin of his up in Montana is safer than my house, you'll be fine there."

"That ain't it Bobby and you know it." he glanced back at the house, attention abruptly brought back to where he stood when Bobby slammed the trunk closed. "I just…don't think this is a good idea."

"Dean, we ain't going over this again, it's been settled…..you need to get your ass in that there car and high-tail it up North to that cabin. Trust me, I've been there, you'll love the town. Women, beer, pool and poker, what more could you want?" Bobby walked around and opened the driver's door. "Get it and get going." he waited. "Sam will be with me, he'll be fine, now, go away."

"Okay, yeah, but….it's just,"

"Two weeks Dean, and if he needs you I'll drive him up there, we ain't gonna be more than a day's drive from you at any given time, okay? Last thing you want to do is get him sick and well, let's be honest, time apart will do you both good." Bobby spoke calmly when what he wanted to do was throttle the stubborn fool dragging his feet in front of him. "If I need you, I will call, ok? I promise." though he spoke in a firm tone, it belied the anxiety coursing through him.

He hated leaving either brother alone, but it was better to get Sam away from Dean before Dean made him sick. A cold Dean could easily fight; a cold would land Sam in the hospital. A place they couldn't risk Sam being. Of course, Bobby couldn't recall the last time Dean had a cold, certainly not since childhood, but a body's natural defenses could only withstand so much, and even Dean could be worn down and need time to recuperate.

"Fine." Dean got into the car and shut the door. "Good luck."

***000***

Nearly a week had passed when Bobby got the phone call. Gabby, short for Gabrielle and some relative of Gavin's who had set her to spying on Dean called to say perhaps someone should come get Dean, for he was being not only stubborn, but stupid. Get Dean? What kind of trouble had the pain in the ass gone and gotten into now? Not that it mattered, for he and Sam would leave immediately to retrieve wayward brother regardless of the reason, but seriously?

This barely legal bimbo, for she sounded all of sixteen on the phone, expected him to believe that Dean Winchester had taken himself to see a doctor? Sure, Bobby had sent him off suffering from a cold, but hell, nothing being worthy of a trip to the local clinic. She wanted him to believe the eldest sure-footed Winchester had fallen down a flight of stairs? Really? Believe he'd been sober, neither feverish nor delirious, not chasing some sex kitten nor running for his life from some axe-wielding evil creature out to kill him when he took said-unplanned tumble? Ha!

Not likely and so unbelievable that Bobby doubted she was telling the truth. He'd called Dean, asked if everything was all right, asked if anything happened or gone wrong or felt off. Nope, he was hunky-dory, a-ok, tip-top shape, right as rain, fit as a fiddle. Which meant of course, that some part of Gabby's story was true and Dean was an ass. It'd been enough to convince Bobby to take Sam and high-tail it north.

Bobby sent a glance towards the passenger seat where a 6'4 man was as sound asleep as a person could get in the front seat of an old Chevy. Man in the eyes of the world maybe, but to him a kid; the small, mousy, book-smart kid who'd been all of four years of age when he'd first met him.

The happy-go-lucky, all-was-right-in-his-world spunky tot who bounced and flounced his way around the salvage yard and tore through the house, slamming doors, scattering rugs and upending piles of stacked newspapers and books, darting away with a giggle when Bobby swatted at him with his hat. Twenty-five years later and just getting a smile out of Sam required strength, patience and gumption Violence, loss and death had wiped away that happy little boy and some days, Sam couldn't pull it together and get out of bed.

Bobby pulled off the road when they were about an hour outside of town. Might as well get something to eat before reuniting the brothers. He knew how Sam had fared during the separation and it hadn't been good. Had he not had Bobby and the meds he probably wouldn't have made it. Dean would have gotten a call from the police or a hospital telling him his brother had flipped out and had been admitted to a psyche ward for evaluation. Course, had Sam not had Bobby, no force on earth, in heaven or in hell would have separated Dean from his brother.

"Sam? You hungry?" he knew better than to reach out and shake the younger man awake. "Sam? Hey!" little more sharply. "Sam!"

Sam woke slowly somewhat groggy from the last round of meds Bobby he'd taken before beginning the ride to Montana. He'd been fine with Bobby, hadn't needed to be taken to a hospital and locked up and given more treatment than Bobby or Dean could give him. Anyone ever came near him again with prozac or valium or any other drug remotely related they'd need dentures.

"We're about an hour out, I'm hungry….I can get it to go…."

"No." Sam sat up with a yawn. "I can eat…have you called him?"

"Hell no. Let him think he pulled one over on me, don't want to give him a chance to find a way to hide whatever it is Gabby thinks we need to know about."

"So, you think he's actually sick?"

"Dunno, but you know your brother never does anything half-assed."

"He never gets sick Bobby. A cold maybe but never the flu or a virus, never anything Nyquil doesn't work on."

"He hasn't had an easy time of it lately Sam. He hasn't eaten or slept….he spent a year without you, it took him months of that year for him to even function….then he went through getting you back, fighting Eve, losing Lisa and Ben, losing Cas, losing you…there was Gwen and Samuel and Rufus, he's beat…."

"Yeah, yeah. I know, ok." Sam reached for the door handle. He didn't want to hear any more, didn't need to be reminded yet again what he had put his brother through. Didn't want to admit that despite knowing all he had cost Dean to lose, he couldn't be sorry he'd been the one Dean chose to remain with.

Sam took the opportunity to walk around the parking lot while Bobby filled up the cars. It felt good to breathe fresh air and stretch. He was full of knots and cramps from spending all day in the car. He stayed within Bobby's sight, knew better than to wander off, last and only time he'd done that, and it'd been without intention, he'd been rewarded with the sound of a shot-gun cocking and a threat to shoot his ass full of rock salt. No, Sam didn't know how it felt to be shot with salt but Dean did and Sam had been with him while he struggled through the aftermath and it was enough to convince him he didn't want any part of his body feeling the sting of salt from the force of a shot-gun.

His fingers played with the bracelet around his wrist. He hadn't taken it off since Dean had fastened it with the threat that if he ever saw Sam without it, Sam wouldn't like the consequences. He'd thought about insisting on a necklace, but necklaces weren't a favorite subject of Dean's and the dog tag that would hang from the chain would hamper and impede him in a fight and he was rather fond of his teeth, so a bracelet it had been. A bracelet with both Dean and Bobby's cell numbers engraved along with four simple words: in case of ER.

Sam sighed, he'd had plenty of time to think about wearing it, hadn't wanted to, saw no reason to, had hated it until the day he'd lost Dean on a crowded sidewalk. He'd become disoriented, then scared, then panicked and had had a complete and public meltdown. He'd come to his senses to find Dean kneeling in front of him, a hand on his shoulder, pressing a cup into his hand. Some kind-hearted lady had tried to assist him, saw the bracelet, recognized the red-medic alert symbol and called Dean.

"You done dancing around?" Bobby called. "Let's eat."

***000***

It was still daylight when Bobby parked in front of the cabin and shut the car down. They both expected Dean to come out onto the porch but the door remained closed. Sam shot Bobby a look as they climbed the steps and had to knock. The door was opened by a pretty brunette dressed in pink fleece with pink fuzzy slippers on her feet - bedroom attire and it was obvious she felt at home.

"Can I help you?"

"Uh, Gabby?" Bobby questioned. He didn't think so, this girl looked older than Gabby had sounded on the phone.

"No." she didn't move or smile nor offer her name. It was obvious she wasn't pleased to see them and had no intention of letting them in. "You are?"

"Coming in." Bobby announced, palm flat against the door and shoving. "DEAN!" he bellowed, surprised when the girl held her ground and Bobby bumped against her.

"He's not feeling well, you need to come back tomorrow." she put her hip against the door, using her full body weight in attempt to close it.

"We know. It's why we're here." Sam frowned. "Dean?"

She was no barrier to keep them out when both Bobby and Sam wanted in. She kept her feet only because she managed to keep her hold on the door. Bobby knew his way around the cabin and led Sam straight to the flight of steps that led upstairs from the kitchen. Hell, Sam would still be looking for the steps had Bobby not known where they were.

"Dean!" Bobby called out; scurrying up the steep steps faster than Sam thought a man of his age could go. Certainly faster than he could go and he was taking them two at a time. The long ride in the small car didn't allow for loose limbs and relaxed muscles. He'd never complain about the Impala again and damn, if these were the steps Dean had supposedly fallen down, Sam could understand why, they were narrow, steep, dark and enclosed. "Dean! Dammit, answer me boy!"

"Heh?" Dean raised his head, yawning sleepily as he blinked blearily up at the two men who crowded the doorway of the bedroom. "Sam? What are you doing here? his eyes cleared and realization dawned on him that Sam and Bobby both stood in the doorway. "What's wrong?"

"With me? Nothing." Sam grinned, his earlier alarm easing now that he saw Dean. "Nice welcome back, by the way."

Dean let his head fall back against the pillow. Had two weeks passed already? He'd spoken to both Sammy and Bobby several times during the last couple days, but still, didn't seem like two weeks had passed. He'd been out most nights since arriving, found the locals to be friendly, had found a decent bar and met a girl who was willing to play house.

Bobby had said Sam was doing great, better than expected actually, had taken him on a few easy hunts, mostly salt and burns. He'd easily dug up whatever grave necessary without tiring, had eased right back into whatever role and identity they'd had to assume. Had strayed off the path a couple of times further than Bobby was comfortable with, but had responded to Bobby's authority without argument. Bobby was grateful every time he called, Dean answered, if he hadn't, nothing would have stopped Sam in his mission to get to Dean.

"You sure you're ok?" Dean rubbed his eyes. "Bobby? Is he ok?"

"He's fine, he ain't the reason we're here. Who the hell is Gabby?" Bobby demanded.

"Who?" he squinted at the light. "Gab…..oh….sweet kid…. her mom is something to Gavin. Come's over to clean, do laundry, get groceries, and make sure I haven't burned the place to the ground."

"And the pink fuzzy powder puff who let us in?" Bobby pushed.

"Oh, um…..huh, Lorie, Lacey….Lottie….starts with an L." he sat up, rubbing a hand long his jaw. "So, it hasn't been two weeks, has it?" he covered his mouth with a closed fist, wracked with a coughing fit.

"Nice cough." Sam commented. "You didn't have that when we left you here." he'd had a cold, sure, but not that deep wet cough that sounded suspiciously like bronchitis.

"Did you fall down a flight of steps? Did you take yourself to the local clinic?" Bobby asked impatiently. "Dean, hey, I'm talking to you!"

"What the hell are you blabbing about?" his eyes were watering. Sam sensed a presence behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Miss-starts-with-an L hovering in the doorway.

"How long you had that cough?" Bobby asked. "You didn't have it when you left us to come here. Damn you Dean, what the hell have you been doing? You're supposed to be here resting, getting your head together, not playing house with Pinky Tuscadero over there." he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm supposed to be worrying about Sam, not you, can't you, just once, behave?"

"What are you doing here?" Dean rubbed the palm of his hand against his chest, caught Sam staring at him and dropped his hand. "Gabby called you? I'm gonna kill that brat!"

"You're sick." Sam announced. "My god, you really are! You're sick!" he exclaimed gleefully, clapping his hands. "Mr. Iron Man is sick! What is it? You think maybe it's the flu?"

Dean's eyes were webbed red and swollen in their sockets. "Gee Sammy, don't sound so happy." another fit of coughing. "Not the flu, not bronchitis, upper respiratory infection."

"Oh, let me enjoy the rare time you're shown as human." Sam grinned. "Bobby, how do I reach this Gabby girl?"

"Hell if I know!"

"Number's on the fridge." Dean yawned. "Catch up with you later?"

"In a minute." Bobby said, catching Sam's eye as Dean rolled to his side, back to Sam and pulled the blanket up to his shoulder. "Dean, what the hell are you doing?"

"Going back to sleep." he murmured sleepily. "Go away and lemme alone."

"How late is the grocery store open?" Sam asked Bobby. "Think the town has one?"

"How would I know? I'd guess ten or so, ask Gabby when you call her, she should know."

"Why don't you leave him alone?"

Both Bobby and Sam turned to give Lottie identical looks. Bobby was taken aback, but Sam was amused. He'd dealt with this since he was nine and his brother hit puberty. Women, no matter their age, always wanted to take care of Dean. He was used to it and he knew how to handle well-meaning women whose attentions were unwanted, both by him and by Dean. Well, he didn't want this one around but maybe Dean did.

"Lottie, right?" he gave her a smile, wondered briefly about her frown then shrugged it off. "Why don't you go downstairs and make him something to eat? Bobby and I just want to talk to him, okay?"

She tossed her hair over one shoulder, gave a harrumph and stalked out of the room. Sam rolled his eyes, just what he wanted to deal with, a pissed off-picked-up-in-a-bar bimbo who didn't know who she was dealing with. Bobby stood aside, recognizing the determined look on Sam's face, the look that said, he wasn't about to be ignored any longer.

Dean yelped as the blanket was ripped from his grasp under his chin. Before he could react, a hand grabbed his shoulder and flipped him onto his back. When he raised his hands to ward off further contact, his wrists were knocked aside and his cheek was slapped lightly.

"Hey!" he protested, half-heartedly attempting to strike out. "Knock it off, you prick."

"Then wake up and talk to me. We didn't drive all freaking day to be ignored. You're sick Dean, admit it. Now did you fall down the steps or not?'

"Maybe." he muttered. "So what?"

"Did you hurt anything? An ankle, maybe?" Sam pressed impatiently. "How did you fall anyway?"

"Um…no?" he paused, waiting to see if Sam was appeased by that answer. Apparently not. "Don't think so? Hell Sam, I dunno, what difference does it make? I'm not going anywhere." he scowled, then frowned as it occurred to him Sam and Bobby had come to get him. "Am I?"

"I can't deal with you right now." Sam rubbed his forehead wearily. "Bobby…."

"Go see what you can get out of Cotton Candy and call Gabby. I'll try to wake him up and get some straight answers outta him."

"Wait…..why are you here? Did you come to get me? Bobby?"

"Yeah, Dean, I hear you…Sam go on downstairs."

Sam entered the kitchen with the intention of sitting Lottie down and having a conversation. She sat at the table, look of defiance on her face, coffee mug in her hands. She was not going to be cooperative. Sam sighed, pushing his hair back, not wanting to get into an argument or have her verbally attack him.

He sent a casual glance towards the counter, thinking maybe a cup of coffee would be just the thing. Toaster, blender, block of knives, cookie jar, canister set, various bottles…..aah, there it was, coffee pot full of coffee. He'd drink it black, she didn't appear to be in any kind of mood to point him in the direction of sugar or milk and he didn't relish receiving a look of pity should he ask for flavored creamer.

"Do you know how late the grocery store is open tonight?" Sam asked, might as well make an effort to be friendly.

"There's plenty of food here, we're good."

"Yeah, but well….but….I…"

"Ten o'clock. It's just a cold you know."

"Yeah, but I know him and a cold is all I'm going to let it be." he picked up a mug, then the coffee pot. He glanced around a second time in search of sugar; it was probably in one of the canisters. His passed over then returned to rest on the variety of medicine bottles, mentally identifying each one. Dayquil, Nyquil, Vicks Formula 44D, Deslym…the only cold and flu liquid medicines safe to give Dean and there…..a small bottle of ….

"What is that?" he demanded, not realizing how harsh his voice was until she knitted her eyebrows together over the mug. Didn't matter, she would learn where Sam stood in Dean's life. Hell, Dean wasn't even sure of her name.

"It's coffee."

"No, that!" he pointed to the bottle. "What is it?" putting the mug on the table, he started towards the counter, feeling his heart pick up a beat. He put the coffee pot back, he wanted both hands free.

"Cough syrup." her tone was patronizing and Sam itched to slap the smirk off her face.

"What?! For who? Dean? You didn't give him any, did you?"

"Um, gee Sam, have you heard him cough?" she was mocking him. "I mean, aren't you here because he went to the clinic?"

He reached the counter and grabbed the bottle, turned it around and saw the prescription label. "He got this filled?" he couldn't keep the snarl from his voice.

"You left him here alone." she said snidely, taking a sip of coffee. Sam fisted his hand; a vision of throwing the coffee in her face made him feel slightly better and helped him control his temper. "And no, he didn't, I picked the prescriptions up for him."

"You gave it to him? Does he know what this is?" he was aghast. "Why? Why would you do that? What the hell is wrong with you?" he read the label, uncapped the bottle and took a whiff. "You gave him this?" he repeated. It explained why Dean wasn't acting like himself, it also explained the fall down the steps. "How long ago?" he turned to confront the girl, who was staring at him in fury. Bobby's raised voice pulled his attention and he walked over to the steps. He'd hoped Dean would have gone to sleep but didn't appear so. "Still waiting for an answer Lottie."

Another look, another sip, the bitch dismissed him and Sam's anger took control. With a growl, he snatched the mug from her hand, the coffee splashing out of the mug, over her hand and onto the table. She squawked, jumping to her feet, putting the chair, like it could stop him, between them.

"Lottie…." he stopped at the look on her face. "What? Let me guess, not your name….." he sighed, should have known better than to believe Dean would remember her name correctly. "I'm going to ask you one more time and you had better answer. Did. You. Give. Him. Any?"

"My name is Charlotte." she said coldly. "And yes." she bit out, and then added. "Don't you dare touch me."

"How long ago?" he asked a second time.

She glanced up at the clock. "An hour."

"Is this the first time?"

"No, I started him on it yesterday." she saw his face. "The doctor prescribed it for him, stop acting like I'm giving him illegal drugs."

"There's codeine in this, Lottie." he held the open bottle over the sink and poured the contents down the drain.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she came around the chair, hand reaching out to tug on his wrist. His opposite hand shot out to ward her off. She stopped just short of touching distance. "That was expensive!"

"Maybe you should go." Sam suggested calmly, reining his temper in was a struggle he was losing. One more look or dismissive shrug and he would pick her up, carry her to the door, deposit her on the other side of it and close and lock it behind her. He wouldn't give her the chance to make a decision. Dressed like Strawberry Shortcake or not, he didn't care, he would put her out on the street to find her own way back to wherever she came from.

"I'm not going anywhere." she stated. "I'm here by his invitation so get used to me being here. Someone needs to be here to take care of him."

"That's not going to be you." Sam seethed. "I'm here."

"It sure as hell hasn't been you this last week." she shot back. "He hasn't asked me to leave, so why don't you just stand aside, or better yet, go back to where you came from and leave us alone."

"You don't know him….." Sam paused as Bobby called his name. He wondered how she had convinced Dean to take the cough syrup in the first place. He didn't usually respond to strangers, let alone trust them but he wasn't going to ask her.

"Look, it's best if you leave. Bobby and I have it under control." he tossed the empty bottle into the sink. "Ever stop to wonder why he didn't already have prescription cough syrup with him? He throws a reaction to codeine. You wouldn't know if he were allergic to any medications or whether he throws reactions to any. You can't just go around giving people you don't know prescription medicine. For Christ sake, he picked you up in a bar!"

"He never told the doctor he couldn't take codeine, you want to blame someone, go right upstairs and ask him why he didn't say something. Don't you dare turn this around on me."

"SAM! God dammit!"

Sam hesitated, unwilling to let the moment go with Lottie, but the sound of running feet had him bolting up the steps. Yup, Dean and codeine were not a good mix.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam couldn't believe how his day was going. He'd woken up that morning feeling better than he'd had since parting from Dean. He'd convinced Bobby to let him go to the library and do research on the case they were currently working on, alone. There, away from the prying, all-to-knowing eyes of Bobby, he'd be able to relax in a place he felt comfortable.

Except, he'd never gotten there and his day had gone to shit. He'd come out of the bathroom to find Bobby packing who informed him their plans had changed. They were going to go get Dean and Bobby would explain in the car. He hadn't looked forward to the nearly ten-hour drive and would like nothing better than a hot shower, cold beer, handful of ibuprofen and bed.

But here he was and the situation wasn't what he'd thought it would be. He hadn't expected to be confronted at the door, denied entry, instructed to leave, and oh yeah, criticized over the way he'd sent Dean away, left him alone and hadn't been there to take care of him. That stung. He'd expected to find his brother suffering from a cold and had thought all he'd need was a box of tissues with lotion and some soup. It sure as hell never crossed his mind he'd find his brother shacked up with some girl who dosed him with codeine, had an attitude and clearly resented Sam's unannounced presence.

He topped the flight of steps just as Dean ran past him down the hall, dripping water, Bobby coming after him, cursing. Taking a deep breath and saying a prayer that he'd keep his sanity through this, he threw himself after his brother, catching him before Bobby could.

Dean thrashed, hands slapping, arms flailing, legs kicking. In his panicked state, he'd been tackled to the floor by a force larger and stronger than himself; his mind did not register concerned brother. It seemed as if he was fighting… something unseen and not ….not human. He swung and grunted and kicked at…..nothing. He was pinned to the carpet, a hand pressed the back of his neck to the floor and held his head still.

He took a deep breath, gathered his strength to resume thrashing - and was flipped onto his back and his shoulders were hauled up from the floor. The arms that came around him from the back were bands of steel. Hands grabbed his ankles, exerting force to keep his legs immobile and reduced his ability to kick. Damn, how many freaking arms did this thing have anyway? Like six?

Grunts, distant voices, warm breath tickling his cheek and whispering in his ear momentarily stunned him. He was lifted, carried and dropped. The hard, cold surface with the rank smell he expected to crack his back against when dropped smelled like…..laundry?

Before he could overcome his bewilderment, hands were once again poking and pulling and pushing at him. His foot was lifted, tugged, twisted and turned, then dropped, the process repeated with his other foot. Before he could decide what was happening to his feet, something was tugging on his shirt up to his chest. Warm fingers ghosted over the chilled skin of his belly. He attempted to halt the process but when he arched his back to gather his coordination, it presented the opportunity for the shirt to be pulled free from underneath him and off over his head. He hit out with both hands but before he could put any further thought into keeping his shirt, hands were tugging at the strings on his pants.

"DAMMIT!" Bobby exploded. "SAM! HOLD HIM STILL!"

"I'm trying. Just…..okay, think I've…got him." he muttered as he bodily hauled Dean back into the center of the bed, throwing him down with force, wishing it were a harder surface so the impact would stun him. "Gotta be quicker than that Bobby."

"Just hold him still." Bobby retorted. "Codeine? Really Sam?"

"I dunno Bobby, guess so."

"You guess so? How the hell did he get codeine?"

A hand grasped his knee with a grip that would surely leave a five-finger bruise, weight on his shin pulled a grunt from his throat, a voice scolded, another snapped in response. The voices, no longer so distant, suddenly sounded to be in disagreement and he fisted his hand, prepared to defend himself. Before he could strike out, a hand circled his wrist and forced his arm down, letting go when he clenched the sheets.

"Dean! Knock it off." Bobby growled. "For the love of…..oh for pete's sake…now see here...that is enough!"

"Bobby…." Sam warned. "Hey! He's not himself you know. No need to be so rough."

"Well, he ain't exactly being helpful here Sam, you wanna leave him soaking wet?" he took a second look at Sam who was staring wide-eyed at his brother when the boy didn't answer.

"Oh my God!" Sam yelled. "Bobby? What's wrong with him? Is he seizing?"

"No, no, I don't think so, no seizure I've ever seen before." if Bobby didn't know better, he thought with a frown, he'd say Dean was…..laughing?

"Well, see if you can be a little more gentle. I don't like him shaking like that."

"Yeah, yeah…" he released his hold on Dean and yanked the pants off just as Sam released his hold to pull a dry shirt over his head. Dean was off the bed before either could re-grab him, skin wet and cold, he easily escaped their hold and bolted out the door.

He was tackled in the hallway, thrown once again, face first to the floor. He lay still, out of breath, too tired to struggle. He remained still, panting hard, tense, unsure what to expect, waiting…...he was engulfed in a blanket and rolled tight. He didn't fight; he was too warm and cozy. He let himself be picked up and carried back to the bedroom where he was laid back upon the bed. Hands were on his feet, bending, rubbing his toes, and he willingly allowed the touch. Whatever he was wrapped up in was warm and soft and the urge to snuggle within it punched him hard in the stomach. A hand on his shoulder, not restraining, but massaging gently cemented his submission.

"So, Sam, anything you wanna tell me?" Bobby drawled. "Like maybe why he was taking a cold shower, you know, with his clothes on?"

"You wanna tell me how he got there in the first place?" Sam countered. "Which ankle anyway?"

"Left, and I went into the another room to get him a blanket off the bed 'cause he's whining he's cold. Why the shower Sam? And why with his clothes on?"

"Not really clothes." Sam gave him a tired smile. "He was dressed for bed."

"Yeah, still doesn't explain why he didn't remove his shirt and a pair of pants before taking a shower, a shower he didn't need and an ice-cold one at that."

"Dunno Bobby, you know he throws bad reactions to codeine."

"Yeah, okay, but he always. …..codeine? Where did he….?"

"Charlotte."

"Charlotte? Who the hell…..well hell, that name don't start with an L!"

"Nor does she go by the nickname Lottie." Sam thumbed between his eyebrows. "Bobby, he hates being wet, especially if the water is cold, has ever since he came back….the couple times we were forced into a lake or river after he…after we got him back….he hesitated before going in the water and once it took me all night to calm him down and coax him out of his mood. It's been, what, three years now? Unless he has too, he won't go in water. Does ok in the rain, but wants to be dry as soon as he can be. I can't explain why he'd go take a cold shower. I blame the medication."

"And wrapping him up in a blanket? Sure seemed to calm him down."

"You try things and learn." he shrugged. "Read articles and blogs of doctors, shrinks, moms with cranky kids, you try it and it works, you remember it for next time, it don't work, try something different."

"On Dean?" Bobby shook his head. "Guessing he's ok with a shower but then, the water's warm." as well as he knew the boys, there was still so much more they knew about each other. "And you never thought to mention any of this before?"

"Bobby, come on, you know him….hell I wouldn't even know if I wasn't with him 24/7, kinda hard to hide things when you live on top of one another…..we don't talk about it, it just is."

"So, what possessed him to take codeine?"

"Hell, I dunno. Guess the doctor prescribed it. Dunno know why he didn't tell the doctor he can't take it or why he didn't think to ask what Lottie was giving him or why he took it from her in the first place."

Bobby muttered under his breath about 'damn foolish stubborn boys'. "It's why I cringe when one of you has to see a doctor less the other one is with you, you know? Had you been with him, the doctor would have known not to prescribe codeine."

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "But..maybe….I dunno…..he admitted he didn't feel good….so…."

"So, what? You saying we shouldn't have left him alone?"

"I'm saying we should have known he'd find someone to be with since he hates being alone."

"Never thought he'd trust some strange girl he's known all of a week." Bobby shook his head. Sam didn't need this and it was only a matter of time before he began to think what could have happened with Dean dosed on codeine had he and Bobby not arrived. Showering in cold water with his clothes on was tame compared to what he could have done.

"I dunno Bobby." Sam whined irritably. He was tired and a little thrown that Dean was so…needy. People had varying beliefs over what made a person sick. Medical professionals claimed going outside with a wet head or getting drenched by cold rain didn't give you a cold or the flu. Grama's and old wives tales begged to differ. Question was, what made an already sick person, sicker? "You're sure that's not a seizure, right?"

Dean never really understood all the fuss about codeine cough syrup. Hell, he loved the shit. It sure made him feel better. Few sips and his chest no longer hurt and he could breathe without wheezing, couldn't they see that? Soon as he woke up, he would make Sammy apologize for giving him such a hard time over taking it. He felt relaxed and happy and wasn't hurting anyone so what was the big deal? Course they wouldn't see that, no, they were still arguing over whose fault it was he had taken it in the first place. Like either could stop him once he made up his mind. He giggled at that thought. He'd like to see them try.

"Oh, my God!" he heard Sam yell. "Bobby! Is be seizing?"

He smiled up at his freaked-out brother to let him know all was ok. Or rather, he smiled at where he thought his brother might be, his eyelids were clearly weighted down with something - maybe they were just water-logged. For whatever reason, that fish tank he'd just been chased out of appeared to have a water fall. Must have water in his ears as well, 'cause Sammy sounded like he was gargling. Orrrrrhhhhhh myyy Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrd Boorrrrrbbbiiee.

He giggled again. What the hell was up with Sam? He must have suffered another knock on the head because he was supposed to be the intelligent Winchester brother. How on earth could he mistake laughter for a seizure? Aaah…he was he tired, so tired. Maybe a short nap.

And, then… he must have slept for a while. Time had passed right? He rather hoped he was sleeping, for he swore he saw a six-foot rabbit hopping about his room and if he wasn't dreaming, Sam had some serious ass kicking to do. He'd do it himself but he needed some sleep 'cause after that last hunt he was feeling pretty wiped out.

Huh, appears they had ceased their arguing and were apparently done trying to maneuver his arms and legs into positions no human limbs were meant to be bent. Now if only, they would take notice of Elmer Fudd's worst nightmare. Were they even still in the room with him? How could they possibly miss seeing how overgrown Thumper was?

Of course, Mr. Cottontail wasn't as dangerous as the carrot he was swinging like a mace. That carrot was huge. It would feed the entire town. And it was orange. He didn't like carrots or oranges or the color orange. He didn't look good in orange, blue was his color. He looked good in blue, all the ladies said so. Dark navy blue. Could navy be anything other than dark in color?

The rabbit was white, why not brown? Wild rabbits were brown. That carrot was large and shaped like….. a dildo? That couldn't be right. When had he ever seen an orange dildo? Better tell Sammy not to turn his back on that rabbit, it appeared it was sadistic. He chuckled at the thought of Sammy being chased by a dildo shaped carrot wielded by a huge white rabbit and….why did Sammy keep asking Bobby about seizures?

Oh for Christ sake, if no one else was going to dispatch Peter Rabbit, he'd do it himself. Oooh, he would make a fur coat; would cook the meat, chop up that ridiculously large carrot and make a hot stew. He'd show them he could handle being on his own. Course, would be nice if one of them could get some heat in this room while he was busy ganking Alice's White Rabbit, 'cause he was freezing. Why was he so cold? Should it be so cold? Maybe a fire? Sam could still light a match, couldn't he?

Oh right, rabbit. Guess it was too much to expect them to take care of this unwanted creature. What did it take to get them to notice Roger Rabbit was in the room? He'd gestured and waved and pointed and all he accomplished was receiving more bruises. Geesch, he'd handled the last creature to invade the house all on his own. What more did they want from him? He was sick and that damned squid - it was a squid, right? 'cause it'd had like ten arms - had stung him in the foot and made his ankle throb like a bitch…and…OH HELL, what were they doing to him now? His clothes? Seriously? He wanted heat and they were concerned with what he was wearing when, hello, Peter Rabbit anyone? "Cause seriously, that dildo, erhm carrot, was a deadly weapon when swung around like that.

They were talking, again, seemed like all they did was talk. Talk and take his clothes. Sammy should have his own clothes, what'd he need his for? Sammy, boy did he like to talk. Would talk non-stop wherever they were, in the car, in the motel room, in a diner, from bed, from the bathroom, god, he never shut up. One would think he'd eventually run out of things to talk about, but nope, not Sammy, never Sammy. Gab, gab, gab.

Okay, enough lollygagging about in bed. If Sam was too busy talking to take notice of the rabbit that was nearly as big as he was and in the same room as he was, Dean would handle the situation like he had the last one.

Man, was his job ever done? You'd think they would be grateful he'd wrestled that damn twelve legged octopus with a hairy face back into its cold water tank. A tank, mind you, that had a damn water fall. Who the hell kept an octopus as a pet anyway? But no, not a word of thanks, not a pat on the back, no praise for a job well done. Instead they had manhandled him into bed, took his clothes and gone on about 'getting him' and 'being quicker about it'. Now, they argued about something stupid while an orange dildo-shaped carrot was being swung about the room like a competitor throwing a hammer in the Olympic Games. Didn't they see it? Didn't they realize if it hit them, it'd knock them through the wall? Fucking rabbit was fucking huge!

Boy, the things he did for Sammy, someday he would have to sit him down and tell him. Okay, enough….time to tackle that rabbit….wait for the carrot to swing the other way, wait for it, wait for it….now! He bolted from the bed, and…. son-of-a-bitch, the blasted rabbit was charging him! He needed a weapon; nothing in the room appeared to be of any use, so he ran from the room, deranged rabbit nipping at his heels.

This wasn't going well; he was supposed to be the one doing the chasing! How the hell had it gotten behind him? God, he was tired and his eyelids were still weighted down and water sloshed in his ears and the bite on his ankle stung and….oh, this Easter Bunny was going down!

He was on his stomach in the hallway, cocooned in what was left of the 'wascally wabbit'. He'd done Elmer Fudd proud and man, did Bugs Bunny's fur make a nice warm coat or what? Who needed them? Let them argue, ha! He sure showed them how it was done. Huh, ok, maybe he'd let them help him back to bed. It was rather difficult to walk wrapped up nice and tight in his newly acquired fur coat. He listened to them argue, place more blame, but he was finally warm and a slow, roving glance about the room revealed no more slimy or furry, erhm…animals.

Aaah, now all he needed was for them to shut up, stop talking and maybe give him some more of that cough syrup. That stuff really made him feel goooood. Made him feel light and airy, like a cloud up in the bluuuee-blue sky, yup, he definitely preferred the color blue. He should probably eat something but he was more tired than hungry. He'd eat later, give Sammy some time to make the stew, maybe by then, he would have run out of things to talk about and finally shut up.

***000***

Dean stirred, coughing weakly, calling the attention of both men. He dug one hand out, pushing the blanket away from his face.

"Hey there." Sam greeted. "Awake?"

"Shit." he eased onto his back, letting his head fall flat against the mattress. "Gawd….I feel awful." he moaned.

"Yeah, bet you do. See Dean, you pull a lot of crap, but shacking up with some girl whose name you don't even know is going a bit too far even for you." Sam scolded. "And to trust her to take medicine? What's the matter with you? You didn't think to tell the doctor you can't take codeine?"

"I know her name." Dean objected. "It's Lettie, no…Lizzie, yeah….Lizzie." he nodded, pleased with himself for recalling her name. "What'd I do?" lord, he must have done something to put that look on his brothers face. All he'd done, that he could remember was…..oh no, oh shit, oh shit no.

"It's Lottie and she gave you codeine."

His face fell and he pulled a pout. Oh well, whatever, he'd been closer with remembering her name than he ever had been before. "She gave me cough syrup." Dean corrected, itching his nose. "Oh."

"Yeah, she did, with codeine." Sam continued to scold. "You told me her name was Lottie, seems her name is Charlotte, which, by the way, doesn't begin with an L. Where the hell did you meet her?"

"Bar." so, not only had he gotten her name wrong, he'd shortened it to a nickname she didn't like, bummer.

"Are you truly that horny you can't go two weeks without sex?"

"You have to ask?"

"Why is she still here Dean?" Sam asked in exasperation.

"Obviously you haven't tasted her coffee or you wouldn't be asking me that question." Dean yawned.

"You can't go picking up random women…..wait...coffee?" Sam sputtered. "What?"

"Why did you go to the clinic anyway?" Bobby asked. "Thought you just had a cold…."

"You're the one who insisted I shouldn't get Sam sick so when I started feeling worse, I thought it best to see a doctor, get some antibiotics."

"Why didn't you call us?" Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. He'd been driving all day and he was tense and tired and only wanted to kick his boots off and stretch out with a cold beer and maybe a newspaper. Getting straight answers out of Dean wasn't something he felt up to doing. "You really shouldn't see a doctor on your own, you'll find some way to screw it up and sure enough, you did."

"Oh, great, great, just great, thanks, thanks for that."

"Codeine Dean, be lucky all you managed to do was fall down the steps and take a cold shower with your clothes on, wanna explain that one, by the way?" Sam was beginning to sound exasperated, not a good sign. That meant Dean had done or said something that had either upset or ticked him off. Oh yeah, he probably should listen to kid brother once in a while and stay away from codeine.

"No." he stared up at the ceiling. How did one explain hairy octopus's with too many legs and a giant rabbit with an obscene carrot? Please, someone, anyone, tell him it had all been a codeine induced dream.

Sam bunched a towel up in his hands to keep his fingers from finding their way around his brother's throat and squeezing. The reasons he wanted to throttle him were numerous; keeping the strange woman he picked up in a bar, picking her up to begin with, giving her free rein in the house, trusting her, accepting medication from her, not calling to tell him and Bobby he was feeling worse, not telling them he'd fallen down the steps, not telling them he'd seen a doctor, not telling the doctor about his reaction to codeine, for deciding to see a doctor in the first place for Sam's benefit and not his own.

"You planning on staying here Sam?" Bobby recalled his attention. "Or heading back to my place?"

"Thought we'd just hit the road."

"You sure that's wise? I mean, he ain't lookin so good." Bobby glanced from one brother to the other. "Go where? Leave when?"

"Don't want to remain here longer than we have to, seems the house came with a permanent guest."

"Send her home."

"You make her leave." Sam got up. "Dean?"

"Mmm." his head rolled on the pillow and his free hand rubbed at his eyes but otherwise he didn't respond to Sam, almost back to sleep.

"Guess there's your answer." Bobby said. "If I remember correctly, when he was a kid, he didn't travel well when he was sick. Your old man always seemed to find himself in the vicinity of my house."

"I….." Sam flung his head back, at a loss what to do. He honestly couldn't remember the last time Dean had been sick, or had a cold. It had to have been when they were kids, before he'd left for college and even then, it hadn't been all that often, maybe two or three times and Sam had certainly been too young to take care of him. He didn't know what upset him more, that Dean was sick or the reason that he was. The past year of stress, guilt, depression and the severe emotional distress that had led to excessive alcohol consumption and worn Dean down to his current condition could only be laid at his own feet. He and he alone was to blame.

"He's not going to feel like going anywhere for a couple of days Sam, best to let him stay here in bed." Bobby decided. Sam may have been too young to remember Dean's reactions to certain medications as a kid, but he would never forget. John had little patience and even less experience, not that Bobby had much more, but at least he had common sense and a genuine affection for the boys.

John had been at a complete loss on how to handle a sick kid. Well, not Sam, just Dean. Sam had told you how he felt, what was wrong and what would make him feel better. Dean had insisted he was fine, nothing was wrong and didn't need anything. John, despite knowing better, would choose to believe him and by the time Dean could no longer deny he was sick, a trip to the doctors couldn't be avoided; hence the experience of finding out Dean's reactions to certain meds.

"Fine, come help me oust the lady in pink." Sam tossed the towel and stood up. He'd been too young to remember when Dean had flipped while on cold medicine as a kid, but there'd been a time before he'd left for college when their dad had been off on his own hunt, that Dean had come down with a cold. No one had told him not to give his brother codeine.

He hadn't known what to tell the doctor. Dean, who had been mad at him for whining until Dean had agreed to go to a clinic, hadn't bothered to say anything either. A sixteen year old kid, with no parental guidance shouldn't have to learn the hard way that prescription cold meds and his twenty year old brother were not a good combination.


	3. Chapter 3

Charlotte took a seat at the kitchen table, contemplating her next move. Sam had been at the cabin for three days now; Bobby had reluctantly left the morning after arriving, but not Sam, oh hell no, not Sam. And he hadn't warmed up to her either. In fact, he was cool and distant and unless she sought him out with direct questions, he avoided her.

Bobby had wanted Sam to leave with him and head back to his place, taking Dean with them. She'd felt a moment's panic, not at all sure how to go about convincing Dean to stay but the problem had been solved for her. Dean had whined about riding clear to South Dakota, hadn't wanted Sam to drive that far and flat-out refused to leave his car behind. When Bobby had calmly stated his intention was they all go in the Impala, he'd complained about Bobby wanting to drive straight through without stopping for the night despite the distance. In the end, Bobby had left after eliciting an agreement from Sam to head his way when he could convince Dean to get in the car.

Her peaceful time having Dean to herself was over. At first, she thought Sam would go with Bobby, only to have it be made quite clear Sam had no intentions of leaving and Dean didn't expect him to. She'd managed to keep Sam from throwing her out, and she didn't doubt he'd considered doing so bodily, but she hadn't managed to wrest the care of Dean away from him.

Sam staying wasn't what even pissed her off, no that would be Dean. It was like he was a different person altogether. When the doctor at the clinic had asked him if there was anyone he could stay with, he had said no. No wife, no finance, no girlfriend and his closest family member or friend was too far away to bother over a mere cold. He'd insisted to the doctor he was fine, wasn't sick and didn't need anyone to stay with him.

But now that Sam had shown up, Dean was suddenly too sick for Sam to leave him. The minor sniffle he'd insisted to the doctor was all he had, now had him, if you listened to him, at death's door. Now that Sam was here, his throat hurt, his chest hurt, his eyes hurt, his nose hurt, he was hot, he was cold, coughing made his chest tight and his eyes water. Could he have some juice, could he have ginger ale, was there any ice cream, could Sam get him this, could he get him that, could he fluff the pillows, could he straighten the blankets, could he have another.

It was to Sam he went to unknot the strings on his pants, to open the bottle with the press and turn lid, to feel his forehead for a fever and check his neck for swollen glands. Sam, Sam, Sam. He wasn't that sick dammit, hadn't run a fever, hadn't experienced nausea, he was shamelessly taking advantage of Sam and Sam, the son-of-a-bitch was letting him and both seemed to be enjoying it.

She stirred sugar into her coffee, she wanted to be rid of Sam and go back to the way it was before Sam had arrived. She suggested to Dean that Sam wasn't needed, that she was here and would continue to take care of him and Sam could go back to Bobby's. He hadn't gone for that at all.

She knew Gabby had called Bobby to come get Dean, what she didn't know was why. Something was off there and she intended to find out what. She hadn't learned much about Dean while spending a week with him. Didn't know where he lived, what he did for a living, where he came from or where he was going when he left. Didn't know how he knew Gavin, what he was doing staying at the cabin or why he refused to leave it. What she did know was: Dean wanted Sam with him.

She wanted to get to know him, wanted to know him as well as Sam obviously did, she wanted that connection with Dean. She could only blame Sam for so much. Dean hadn't let her get close but she had expected to have time to wear him down. Had she'd had the full two weeks, she was confident she would have been able to worm her way into Dean's life and start a relationship. Then Sam had shown up and Dean forgot she was in the house, wanted nothing more to do with her and only talked about leaving once Sam would let him drive. Hell, if he wanted to leave so damn bad, why didn't he just let Sam drive? Just leave now before her feelings grew even more.

She cupped her chin in her hand. She wanted it to be her name Dean called when just waking up, her face that made his eyes light with recognition, her voice that made him submit to sleep, her touch that calmed him down and allowed him to relax, her presence that made him feel safe. She wanted to be the one to ease his discomfort, administer medicine, fluff his pillow and tuck him in. She wanted to be the one he asked to get him soup or something to drink or to put toothpaste on his tooth-brush.

Ever since Sam had reamed him out over the cough syrup, he wouldn't even accept her offer of water. He barely let her near him anymore and Sam never left her alone in the house with him. If he had to go out, that brat Gabby came to baby sit Dean and for all that she was sixteen years old, she was a bold chit who didn't take being bossed around by Lottie. She was so infatuated with Sam, all he had to do was lower his head and peek through his bangs and she was a puddle at his feet. And he knew it.

"Any coffee?" Dean stumbled down the last of the steps and fell into the kitchen. She recalled the fall down the steps that had prompted Gabby to call Bobby and ruin her week. Once Gabby saw his bruised, swollen ankle and he refused to get an x-ray at the clinic, she went behind his back and called Bobby.

Dean had refused to let Lottie look at his ankle to determine the extent of injury. Had refused her offer of ice, ignored her insistence to wrap it in a bandage and blew her off when she advised him to keep it elevated. Saint Sam shows up and suddenly his ankle hurt so badly he couldn't bear to put any weight on it. He'd lain in bed, plopped his foot into Sam's lap and lay quietly while Sam felt, rotated, bent and twisted his ankle. Only then had he allowed her to shave his ankle and so Saint Sam could wrap it, bandage it and settle his foot on a pillow with ice.

Lottie got up to pour him a mug of black coffee while he sat at the table, and rubbed sleep from his eyes as he yawned. Antibiotics seemed to be working, the cough was no longer deep and wet, his lungs had cleared and the swelling in his glands had subsided. She knew Sam would be taking him and leaving within a day or two and she didn't expect him to be returning.

"Thanks."

"Are you hungry?" while she was happy he had regained his appetite, it also made her sad because it meant he was regaining lost strength and he'd be leaving soon. She was not stupid, she knew he wouldn't stay, knew he wouldn't take her with him, knew he wouldn't promise to return. She wanted a real chance to build a relationship with him and as she saw it, the only obstacle in her way, was Sam. It never occurred to her that perhaps Dean's feelings weren't as deep or as involved as her own.

"Aah, yeah, guess, don't suppose a cheeseburger…." she shook her head. "Thought not." he sighed dejectedly. "Soup sounds great." he was so tired of soup and toast. He wanted a meal. Hell, at this point, he was willing to accept mashed potatoes and boiled chicken.

"Glad to see you up and around." she commented. "No ill effects of me feeding you codeine. I don't see what the big deal was, not like we had to rush to the hospital over a severe allergic reaction."

Dean blushed, staring at the table. No, no allergic reaction and he wasn't about to share with her or anyone else the odd dreams he remembered. God only knows what he might have ended up doing if Sam and Bobby hadn't been there to stop him. She wouldn't have been able to control him. He was lucky all he'd ended up with was a bum ankle. Consider it lesson learned; he'd remember to tell the doctor in the future he had a negative reaction to codeine.

"It's not that…" he paused. "I'm not allergic to it. I, ahh, it's like smoking pot, you know?"

"So, you have a brother." she got out a pan, opened the fridge and removed a container that held chicken noodle soup.

"What does it matter?" he frowned at her accusatory tone. "I didn't expect him 'til next week."

"You led me to believe you had no one. I mean you told the doctor there was no one you could call." had she known Dean wasn't as alone in the world as she believed, she may not have been so quick to decide to pursue him. She'd thought he'd had no ties anywhere and might be convinced to settle in town where they could see if there was a chance for a relationship.

Sam stood quietly in the doorway, listening to Lottie interact with Dean. He was relieved he was alone so no one could see the look that planted itself upon his face at Lottie's words. He was damn good, almost as good as Dean, at keeping his emotions from showing on his face. He could fool anyone, pretend words didn't affect him, show that he wasn't hurt or upset or startled by some offhand comment, that to anyone else was innocent. He knew he could have kept his reaction from Lottie, but Dean would have known. It shouldn't hurt, shouldn't feel like he'd just been kicked in the gut, but it did.

Sam bit his lip, hand clenching into fists. It was his fault Dean had gone alone to the doctors. He'd been uneasy letting Dean go off on his own in the first place, but Bobby had insisted and Sam finally accepted that separating until Dean threw his cold was the reason they were parting. His earlier belief that Dean wanted - needed to get away from him resurfaced and he blinked rapidly at tears. Dean hadn't wanted Sam with him, hadn't wanted him to know Dean was sick, and had told the doctor there was no one he could call.

"I told the doctor no one was close, and they weren't, they were a day's drive away and you saw how tired they were when they got here. I'm a big boy Lottie, I don't need Sam to hold my hand."

"You sure about that?"

"Well hell, might as well use him while I've got him." he grinned. "Been awhile since Sam's…been Sam."

Sam was well aware Dean remained oblivious to the girls feelings for him, knew those feelings would never be returned.

He was stunned Dean had accepted her so easily. In a way, he could see it, she reminded him of Lisa and no doubt, Dean saw it as well but that still didn't explain why in two weeks, Dean hadn't asked her to leave.

Okay sure, she made the best damn coffee Sam had ever tasted, but come on, it was just coffee! Sam had watched her make it several times and had yet to discover her secret. Hell, he wondered if Dean hadn't been sick, she would have succeeded worming her way into his life with a promise of a life time with better coffee. It was that good and yeah, Dean could be bought.

No matter, they'd be leaving in a couple of days. Dean was nearly done with the dosage of antibiotics the doctor had prescribed and he could walk without a limp though his ankle was still wrapped and he whined as if it were broken when he had to manage the steps. He'd yet to try to put his boots on and if they were to do any walking for an extended length of time, the ankle would swell and he'd have to elevate it with ice. But they were going to Bobby's so that didn't matter. Least it was his left ankle and not his right, because both Dean and Bobby had yet to decide it was safe for Sam to drive and while Dean could probably drive just fine had it been his right ankle, who wanted to find out differently once they were on the road?

Question was, how would Lottie take Dean leaving?

"Guess since you're feeling better, you'll be leaving soon." Lottie said casually, sitting back down. "Where will you be heading when you go?"

"For now, back to Bobby's for a day or two, let Bobby see for himself I'm all better then hit the road."

"With Sam?"

"Well, yeah, we got things to do."

"And Sam? He's all right?" she didn't really have any idea if anything was with Sam. She'd heard whispered words between Dean and Bobby and had seen the looks Dean had sent his brother's way; looks of concern, worry and uncertainty. Sam didn't sleep well, was skittish and jumpy and uneasy. Something was off there and she wondered if she could get Dean to elaborate.

"He's doing ok. Doesn't really have hallucinations anymore, pretty much knows reality, he's off all meds, all I…."

"Hey." Sam entered the room, shaking his head over Dean's revelation to a girl who had no business knowing anything about him or his problems. "Got up finally, huh?"

"Hungry."

"Good, means you'll be ready to leave soon."

"Sure, might have to let you drive a bit, but we can head out tomorrow if you want."

"Yeah." Sam gave Lottie a look. "I think that's a good idea. Head back to Bobby's, see what he has going on and go from there."

"Sounds like a plan."

Lottie forced a smile but she was furious. Furious that Sam had arrived to interrupt Dean just when he'd been about to reveal what Sam's problem was. Furious that with one look, Sam could divert Dean's attention from her and give him a whole new subject to focus on.

She was convinced that if Sam wasn't around for Dean to worry about, he would he stay in town. She might even be able to coax him to stay with her at her apartment until he was fully recovered and if he had nowhere else to go, remain. She knew a lot of people in town, she was sure she could help Dean find a job. And it wasn't like Dean didn't know anyone. He knew Gavin and though Gavin wasn't a permanent town resident, he visited several times a year and there was always Gabby. She was just a kid, no threat there, just an annoyance but she was someone Dean knew.

She got up to retrieve the soup from the stove and pour it into a bowl. So, what was she supposed to do about Sam? How did she separate the brothers? She didn't wish Sam ill, just wished him away from Dean.

"Okay." Sam was saying and she pulled her attention back to the conversation between the brothers. "I'll call Gavin, let him know we're heading out, then call Bobby and tell him we're heading his way."

Gavin. She'd start with Gavin. Find out how he knew the brothers and what was so special about the cabin. She'd tried to convince Dean to go with her to her apartment after the doctor's appointment but he had refused, insisting he had to remain at the cabin. It didn't make sense, if there was no one to care where he was, what did it matter where he stayed? It wasn't like the phone at the cabin was the only way to reach him, he carried a cell and it had rung several times every day, so he was easily reachable despite where he stayed. Now that she thought about it, both Bobby and Sam had inspected the cabin and declared it safe and only after that had Bobby agreed to leave.

She felt better now that she had a plan. She might have to let Sam take Dean and leave but it would only be temporary. She had time, she'd find a way to get Dean back and if Sam continued to stand in her way, well, she wasn't above finding ways to remove him.


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby had been in bed less than an hour when his home phone rang. Few people had the number, the local sheriff, a couple of old friends, a few retired hunters and the boys. No one would be calling him on it unless it was important. He doubted it was the boys. They'd left over a week ago and if they really needed to talk to hum, they would have called his cell. When it kept ringing, Bobby got out of bed and walked downstairs to answer it. Someone really wanted to talk to him and he doubted he would get any sleep until the spoke to whoever it was.

"Bobby? Norton here, hey you got any idea where I can reach the boys?"

"Norty, it's 2:30 a.m., you ass." Bobby grumbled. "What you doin', calling this line and giving me a heart attack, I'm too old for this shit."

"Cause there's been whispering, a lot of it, and it involves the boys, where the hell are they?"

"Boys? Why ya looking for 'em?" tiredness was forgotten and replaced with suspicion. Norton was a hunter older than Bobby by a good ten years. He no longer actively hunted, but he still assisted other hunters with knowledge and research. If he was looking for the boys, then there was a good reason behind it and he was to be taken seriously.

"Tried both their cells, voicemail on both and neither are returning calls." Norton continued. Bobby cast a look over to the counter where both cell phones in question sat. Sam had been uneasy about Lottie knowing Dean's number so they'd purchased new cells with new numbers before leaving. "Been calling around, seems they're off the grid, you know anything about that?"

"Haven't heard from 'em Norty, why ya looking for 'em?" Bobby repeated, tone less friendly and now tinged with impatience. "Ain't like you to be asking after 'em."

"Well, dunno, might be nothing, but seeing as how trouble likes to find them and follow them around, been hearing some rumors about a witches coven that's got the boys in their sights."

"Aww, shit, you don't say." Bobby kept his tone neutral. He didn't need to hear about trouble finding the boys. Not when Dean was just getting back on his feet and Sam was only beginning to be mentally stable. "Any idea how many?"

"Three, I heard. Rumors say origins are from Montana. Thought they'd been up that way recently. Gavin and all, you know?"

Bobby sighed, getting up and going over to his computer to sit down and log on, might as well start typing and gain more information. One witch was bad enough, but three? That spelled trouble. Three meant they would be strong enough to wreak havoc. He'd have to give Sam a heads up on what he knew so far and then try to find out all he could. The boys would need all the time they could get to get a head start and gather supplies to protect themselves.

"Well, balls." Bobby growled. "Last I heard, they were out West, where's this coven?"

"On the move, far as I know they haven't found them yet, but it's just a matter of time 'til they do. Last I heard they were in Wyoming but seems they might be making their way back to Montana."

"Got any more info on the coven? A name? Looks like I got me some researching to do." if Bobby heard the word Montana one more time, he was going into town and find some heads to break. The protected cabin was supposed to have been a haven, not a breeding ground for a witch's coven. Who the hell was it and how powerful were they? What did they want and what would they do to get it?

He paused, could Charlotte be involved?

He blamed himself. Dean had had a freaking cold. All he had to do was eat soup, swallow Nyquil and keep his ass in bed. He'd managed to do that, just not alone. Who would have thought Dean would find trouble while recuperating from a cold? Dean picked women up wherever he went and went home with them, rarely did he ever bring one home with him and wouldn't you just know, the one time he did, she turned out to be a…..a what? Bobby knew witches and Lottie hadn't been one. So, what did that make her? Unstable, obsessed stalker? What lengths would she go to and what exactly was her goal?

"Here's what I got so far." Norton was still talking and Bobby forced himself to focus on what he was saying; best to get all the facts before jumping to conclusions.

***000***

Sam closed his laptop with a frown, glancing over at the bed where Dean slept. He lowered his face into his hands and thumped the heels of his hands against his forehead. Of all the emails he expected from Bobby, the one he'd just read hadn't been on any list. What the hell?

Whoever would have thought some pissed off ex fling of Dean's who he'd known all of two weeks and whose name he couldn't remember correctly, would form a coven and actually get powerful enough to find them? Would want too?

Couldn't Dean just get a normal stalker like everyone else? No, he had to go and find a female who was so demented, she'd do whatever it took to locate him to convince him he belonged with her. Sam tugged on his hair, teeth gritted in frustration. Damn, but his life was seriously messed up. It was time to pack up, head back to Bobby's and research a way to meet this latest threat head on where the minimal amount of people got hurt. He'd leave now if he trusted himself to drive, it didn't matter how Dean felt, they needed to go.

"Dammit!" he slumped back in the chair, palms flat on the table in front of him, forefingers rap-a-tap tapping. What the hell was he supposed to do with some poor girl whose feelings for his brother weren't returned? Was she a girl or was she a witch? He'd never gotten the feeling that she was anything other than what she appeared to be; another clueless female entrapped in Dean's world.

She hadn't alluded to the fact she knew who they were or what they did and Sam didn't believe she'd known. True, Sam hadn't liked her, held it against her she'd given Dean codeine, but Dean had been the ass who had willingly taken it. She lived in the same town where Gavin was known, it wasn't too far a stretch to believe someone would know who Gavin was and what he did. Had she been persistent and Sam would admit she wasn't stupid, she could easily have found out more about Gavin and the world in which he lived.

That Dean and Sam were associated would have been a logical conclusion. From there all she would have had to do, was read and dig and find someone who could help her learn. It wouldn't have been all that hard. A witch, regardless of how experienced, could be dangerous. Lottie wouldn't be all that powerful, wouldn't need to be, she was a novice, and that was worrisome. What worried Sam was who she had met and was learning from. What kind of hell had he and Bobby unwittingly brought into Dean's life this time?

"Sam?" Dean called sleepily, raising his head from the mattress to blink about in confusion. Sam sighed, fingers tangling together behind his neck within his hair. Freaking prick could sleep through a hurricane yet let Sam utter one curse and he was reaching for the knife under his pillow.

"Sorry. Go back to sleep."

"Something wrong?"

"No, just Bobby."

"K."

Sam frowned, getting up from the table and walking over to sit on his bed, facing Dean who had yet to completely kick his cold. Sam had thought him recovered. He'd completed the antibiotics, hadn't needed more and Sam had deemed it safe to leave but honestly, he'd wanted to get Dean away from Lottie. She'd gotten too close and Dean had been too comfortable around her for Sam to be happy about.

Riiiiight. Dunno what he'd been thinking, this was Dean and nothing was ever simple. In fact, Bobby now suspected Lottie might have something to do with Dean's prolonged illness. Not the original cold, but it was odd and unusual for Dean, for anyone, not to have thrown it by now.

A week on the road and Sam had been forced to find a motel to hole up in, job abandoned. Dean's cough had returned along with a fever and while he hadn't complained, he was miserable. He hadn't kept much down the last couple days and Sam had to coax him into eating anything at all. He didn't ask for anything but drank whatever Sam handed him. Sam was giving him two more days, if he wasn't feeling better by Friday, he was dragging Dean's protesting ass to the hospital whether he wanted to go or not.

"Hey, how you feeling?" he asked softly. Dean hadn't been sleeping well lately and had only fallen asleep less than an hour ago.

"Wh-at?" he slurred, curling up on his side, back to Sam and pulling the blankets up to his ear. "Thought you said, you were going out?" he grumbled. "Go-way."

"Since you're awake, how about something to eat?" he didn't have much hope he'd get an affirmative answer. He'd been soundly rejected an hour ago. Dean's latest refusal to eat had been what prompted him to run to the store. He wasn't taking being told no these days well at all, over anything.

He'd been out and back, having gone to a nearby pharmacy to get for something for nausea. The maid at the motel suggested coke syrup. Who knew it was sold in bottles at the local drugstore? Who knew it even existed? Of course, he hadn't been able to find it, hadn't thought to ask the maid where it was on the drugstores shelves.

Wasn't the first time, his tired, haggard appearance had prompted sympathy from females he interacted with. Could also be his good looks, or his pouty eyes, hell he didn't know or care, he wasn't above taking full advantage of his assets. He'd been directed to the pharmacy counter and he'd left the store, the proud owner of one bottle of coke syrup only to return to the motel and be met with a recalcitrant brother who hadn't wanted to swallow anything he hadn't heard of before. He'd dismissed Sam's patient explanation that he knew what it was by grumpily informing him that his bottles of coke did not bear the word syrup and face-palmed Sam when Sam attempted to say, 'oh yes your bottle does'.

"Not hungry Sam, lemme alone." he moaned into his pillow.

"Do we always have to have this fight? I don't care if you're not hungry, you need to eat." patience wearing thin, he tugged on the blankets, Dean held tight. "I'm not asking you to eat oysters or a steak, just some soup, maybe a cracker or two, hey? You listening to me? Dean, come on, quit being a baby." patience now at end, he reached to take a firm hold on the blankets and yank them free. Maybe he'd been the one babying Dean these past couple weeks but Christ, enough was enough. Dean's hand swatted at his just as his fingers brushed against Dean's ear. "Jesus Christ Dean, you're cold as shit."

"I know, so quit trying to take my blanket." he mumbled. "And go away."

Sam stood up, needing his height to use as leverage to gain control over Dean. "What the hell…" he managed to tug the blankets free, causing Dean to curse at him and roll further away. Sam didn't care, letting him go, wasn't like Dean had the advantage or had anywhere to go, and he was more concerned how cold Dean's skin was to touch.

"Dude, that better not be my bag I hear you digging in." Dean rolled onto his back, voice stronger as he became more awake. "What the hell are you doing?" he was shivering and groped for the blanket.

"Where is your grey Henley shirt?"

"What? Why? Who cares?"

"Where is it Dean?"

"Should be in there, if it ain't, most likely, it's dirty…..god."

Sam shot him a dirty look and walked over to his own duffel.

"Ooommmppffff." Dean sputtered as a shirt landed on his head. "Not grey, and not….mine!"

"Put it on." Sam ordered. "Or I'll do it for you."

"Geesch Sammy." Dean pulled the shirt off his face, one of Sam's long-sleeved ones. "What the hell's gotten into you?" he sat up to pull the shirt over his head. When Sam had first shown up unexpectedly at the cabin and taken charge of taking care of him, Dean had relished it. He'd taken care of Sam the kid's entire life…..it was….nice that Sam worried and cared enough to fuss, was able to care. Sam had always tended his injuries but that was because he'd had too.

Yeah, ok, so Dean had been bossy and demanding while suffering from his cold, ordering Sam around and finding fault with everything he'd done, but Sam's expression and his readable eyes belied his frustration. He was….touched that Dean was letting him take care of him, maybe a bit worried because it was so unlike Dean but Dean knew what line not to cross, he hadn't wanted his behavior to upset Sam.

Dean sighed. He didn't feel cold, didn't need a shirt but knew from previous experience Sam would wrestle him into it. The shirt smelled like detergent, least it was clean and it was oddly comforting. Sam felt his irritation ebb, replaced with compassion as Dean laid back down, eyes liquid pools of abject misery.

"So, not feeling any better then?" Sam guessed. "Dean, since you're awake, maybe we should just head to the clinic, or better yet, the ER, get you some more antibiotics." waiting until Friday, be damned.

"Nah, I'm okay." he gave his brother a cocky grin, well tried, it failed dismally.

"No, you're not." Sam said quietly. "It could be anything, strep, the flu, bronchitis, respiratory infection. Hell knowing you, freaking pneumonia. It's a chance we can't take Dean, but not out here."

Dean slid to the edge of the bed and swung his feet to the floor. Soon as Sam saw his feet were bare, a pair of socks was lobbed at his chest. Dean sighed, balling the socks in one hand. As long as he allowed Sam to have his own way, he was fine; no episodes, no breaks with reality, his mind hadn't fractured and no need for meds. But Dean was exhausted trying to keep Sam sane by treading carefully, it wore him out.

Enough time had passed with Dean dragging his feet about a doctor that if he gave in now, Sam wouldn't be suspicious. Get some antibiotics and in a day or two, he should feel better. Worst thing about being sick for the first time in years was, he didn't dare admit how he really felt. The last thing he could risk doing, was scaring Sam. It was a fine line he teetered on, giving in without being too obvious and it left him both mentally and physically exhausted.

He fixed Sam with a disgusted look, he hated sleeping in socks but he crossed one ankle over his knee and pulled a sock over his toes. The simple action meant so much to Sam that Dean couldn't bring himself to deny seeing the kid appeased.

"Anything else? Ski hat? Knit sweater?" he pulled the second sock on and stood up. "Wanna go buy an electric blanket while I take a piss?"

"Dean….enough, can you honestly look me in the face and tell me you feel fine? Cause if you can, let's pack up and head back to Bobby's. It's what, a ten or twelve-hour drive?" his mind was on the email from Bobby. He really should share the information with Dean but he didn't look like he was up to hearing bad news.

"You know what…" he began then caught himself. "No, ok? No, I don't feel like driving for twelve hours but that doesn't mean I need to be admitted to the hospital."

"You need something stronger then Dayquil."

"Tell you what, let me go back to sleep for a couple of hours, if I don't feel any better when I wake up, I'll let you take me to a clinic, ok? Deal?"

Sam nodded. He wanted to call Bobby and talk to him. Wouldn't hurt Dean to get some more sleep and whether he felt better when he woke up or not, his ass was going to the nearest clinic. He'd give him two hours.

"Okay, deal, but before you go back to bed, you are going to eat something."

Dean nodded, whatever, long as he could go back to sleep.

"Sam?" Dean squinted up as a shadow fell across his bed and found Sam standing over him. "What the hell are you doing?" his eyes widened as he saw the syringe in Sam's hand. "JESUS! What do you intend to do with….? HEY! SAMMMM…OW!" he thought maybe he'd been dreaming, but the pain was real. He squawked as his arm was grabbed, pinned to the mattress and stabbed with a needle. He was wide awake now and dammit, the sonuvabitch could have tied off a rubber strap to pop a vein up before inserting the needle and did he really need to be so rough?

Bobby had requested some of Dean's blood and rather than explain it or give him a chance to argue about it, Sam decided to draw it for him and send it off to Bobby to be tested by a doctor familiar with the world of unnatural for anything suspicious.

"Hold still." Sam muttered around the second vial he held between his teeth. Dean lifted his head, twisting to try to see what the hell it was Sam was doing. "Dean, stop jerking! I swear I will stick you as many times as I need to get two vials of blood."

"Blood? What the hell do you need with my blood?" he went still, not because Sam told him to, but because tearing the needle out of his vein would hurt. He would know, he'd done it numerous times over the years. "SAM!"

"Yeah, yeah, ok." he filled the second vial and withdrew the needle. Dean held the wad of cotton to the puncture site and glared up at his brother. "Shush up, you big baby!"

"You'd better start explaining." Dean warned ominously. He was in no mood to indulge Sam. He didn't appreciate waking up to a needle being thrust into his arm.

"I will." Sam carefully placed the vials into a box lined with foam and put the box into the fridge. He'd send it out FedEx in the morning. "Lose the clothes."

Dean blinked, he couldn't have heard right. "Come again?"

"Your clothes Dean, take them off."

"No." he sat up. Something was wrong with Sam and it was beginning to unnerve him. "Let's talk about this Sam." he was tired and hadn't yet regained full strength after being sick for two weeks and while he doubted he'd be able to best Sam should it come to a physical fight, he was quite sure he'd be able to put up enough of a fight to at least get away. Course; to flee the motel room, he would need to keep possession of his clothes.

"Either take them off on your own, or I will do it for you." Sam rubbed at his forehead. Why did Dean always have to give him a hard time? Why couldn't he just once, do as Sam asked? "And I promise you, if I have to remove them, you won't be getting them back."

Dean moved to the other side of the bed, opposite Sam and stood up with his back against the wall, knife held in his hand down by his thigh. He didn't want to hurt his brother, had no intention of actually stabbing him, just wanted to scare him back into reality.

"A knife?" Sam was stunned. Dean had pulled a knife on him? What the hell did he think he was doing? "Put the knife down before you hurt yourself."

"It's not me I'm worried about."

"You didn't sneak more codeine behind my back, did you?"

"I'm not the one who's acting all weird." Dean countered. If he could get closer, he'd be able to throw a decent punch that would hopefully be hard enough to knock Sam out. He could then tie him up and try to reason with him once he regained consciousness.

"You're standing there with a knife ready to attack me and you say I'm the one acting weird?"

"You stuck me with a needle and took blood Sam! You want me to take my clothes off - two hours ago you threatened to dress me if I didn't obey you and now you're threatening me you'll take them off! You want to talk about who's acting weird?"

"I told you….." Sam began, struggling to control his temper.

"No, no you didn't." Dean kept his tone calm but he was seriously close to freaking out. "What do you think you told me?"

"Aw, shit." Sam groaned, smacking his forehead with his palm. "I, um, guess I forgot to explain….so, ehrm, sorry?"

"You forgot? You're sorry? Sam, you better have a damn good explanation."

"Got an email from Bobby." he sighed. Only the truth would get him out of trouble now. Dean would just have to find a way to deal with it. "Norty called, seems there's a coven after us, started on our trail up in Montana. I called him while you were sleeping. Bobby's thinking maybe Lottie might be involved. He asked for some of your blood so he could send it to the doc in town and have it tested, wants me to look you over for any marks or signs of a spell or a hex."

"Oh." he laid the knife on the bed. "Why didn't you just say so to begin with?"

"Thought I did."

"Yeah, well, you forgot that part. Okay, so now what?"

"You said you'd go to the doctor. Maybe Lottie's involved or maybe you're just sick, either way, like I said earlier, you need something stronger than Nyquil…"

"FINE!" he threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine, find a clinic and we'll go. Will that make you happy?"

"Already found one." Sam smiled happily. "You, um want me to help you look for…er...any signs of…" he gestured, smile fading. They needed to neutralize the threat. He didn't need to fight a spell or curse or some other force that ensnared Dean. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but if there was no other choice, he wouldn't shed any tears if they turned out to be collateral damage.

"NO!" Dean barked and marched into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Use the mirror!" Sam called through the closed door. Silence from within.

Dean came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, dressed and reached for the keys. He caught sight of Sam's face and tossed the keys his brother's way. "Guessing by the look on your face, you think it best you drive."

"Well, yeah Dean, you think? You're shaking!"

"Oh, I am not." Dean huffed. "Good grief." hell, he must look like shit if Sam wanted to drive. In his defense, he'd been woken up twice in just over three hours and while he wasn't happy to be visiting a clinic for the second time in a month, it was little enough to do if it set Sam's mind to ease. He wasn't going to admit he was somewhat light-headed from twisting and turning and trying to see his back either, even with the aid of the mirror, it hadn't been easy.

"So, you good? Didn't find anything, right? And you looked, everywhere, didn't you? Cause, she….um, well, was in your bed, right?"

"Get out that door or I will kick you in the ass." Dean threatened. "And no, not a bruise, or a scratch or a red mark. Not a sign or a symbol or a sigil or anything else."

"Huh." Sam shrugged. "Ok then."


	5. Chapter 5

Sam followed Dean out of the clinic and back to the car. Dean wasn't speaking to him, but with the mood he was in, Sam was ok with that. Dean had been surly with the receptionist, abrupt with the nurse, uncooperative with the doctor and had ignored Sam.

He'd let Sam do all the talking, hadn't argued when Sam insisted on remaining with him during the exam and hadn't openly disagreed with what Sam told the doctor. He just didn't feel up to it, he hadn't wanted to get out of bed in the first place and now all he wanted to do, was return to it, pull the blankets over his head and forget everything and everyone, Sam included.

Of course, he couldn't do that, Sam was upset and freaked out and in no condition to handle Dean acting out. He rounded the hood of the car and opened the passenger door. He didn't even bother to glance at Sam to see his reaction. He didn't feel up to driving even the short distance back to the motel and if Sam dared mention eating, well, Dean doubted he would feel any guilt should the juice the doctor insisted he drink reappear on Sam's feet.

Sam got into the car and reached for his cell he'd left on the dash. Several missed calls, several texts, and several voice mails. All from Bobby wanting to know where they were, what they were doing and were they ok. Sam inserted the key into the ignition, turned the engine over then scrolled for Bobby's number. Before he could thumb send, his phone rang. He glanced over at Dean whose head was against the window, eyes closed and showing no response.

"Yeah Bobby?" he sighed tiredly, putting the car in drive and pulling out. Bobby was going to yell, might as well let him rant and rave while Sam drove back to the motel.

"What the hell Sam? Where have you been? Where is your brother?" Bobby exploded. "Balls Sam, you're killing me here…you'd better…" Sam let him wind down without interrupting. He waited until Bobby finally stopped for a breath before even attempting to speak.

"Dean's right here." Sam said softly, he hadn't even heard half of Bobby's scolding rant. "We just left the clinic, heading back to the motel now."

"Thought you were going to wait until Friday."

"Yeah, well, he woke up."

"Not feeling any better then?"

"Well, we left Vomitville and appear to be stuck in Feverfield by way of Sorethroattown. Doc has a way with words, must normally work with kids."

"By your tone, guessing the doc told you to ride it out."

"Plenty of fluids and bed rest."

"You holding up okay?'

"Guess, yeah."

"Your email earlier said you were near Wright, Wyoming, you still there?"

"Aaah, um...yeah, yeah, M&A motel, why?"

"Cause I'm on my way!" Bobby growled. "What the hell did you think I'd be doing after not being able to reach you for two hours!" he took a deep breath. "It's a seven hour drive, maybe closer to eight. I got on the road an hour ago, you take yourself and that brother of yours back to the motel and park it, you hearing me?"

"You don't have to…." he stopped. "Yeah, Bobby, I hear you." with Bobby there to baby sit a bed-ridden Dean, maybe he'd be able to get some sleep. It'd also be easier to work on tracking down Lottie or the witches or whoever the hell was looking for them if he and Bobby were together. "Just gonna stop at the store on the way back."

"Did you ask the doc if he was contagious?"

"It's a cold, a virus, if I'm susceptible to the germs in the air, I'll catch it, no way to prevent it, but I did get the flu shot while I was there."

"Ok, well, go hole up 'til I get there, then we'll figure out this latest problem. Norty called back, has a tail on the coven, Lottie was spotted with two women about her age just over the border in Montana."

"So, not far from the town where Gavin's cabin is."

"Nope, too close for me to be convinced it's a coincidence."

"What are we supposed to do Bobby? She's just a girl, you know? Ain't her fault Dean's an ass."

"Hey!" Dean roused enough to sleepily protest. "Am not."

"We'll talk when I get there. I didn't peg her as a witch Sam, she can't be powerful so she should be easy to take out."

"You mean kill her?" Sam winced.

"No, ya damn dummy, destroy her source of knowledge and power. Figure she has something of Dean's she using….."

"Christ Bobby, she could have anything."

"Norty's working on who the two girls with her are and who in town might have aided her in whatever quest she's on. For what it's worth, we don't think she wants to hurt him."

"So what? She wants to find and keep him? She's demented Bobby." Sam shook his head. "It's not like I'd ever let her have him, she has to know that."

"Maybe, but that doesn't warrant a death sentence." Bobby cautioned. "Get some rest Sam, looks like we'll be heading back to Montana."

"Guess not." Sam agreed. "Look, let me go, I'll book you a room, see ya." he tossed the phone and reached out to give Dean a hard nudge. "You awake?"

"Depends." he muttered. "What?"

"What do you want from the store? I know you don't like Gatorade, but…"

"Any flavored water is fine Sammy, carbonated if they have it, mind if I wait here?" he reached for his wallet.

"Would prefer that you did."

"You need any money? Oh, and no orange." he handed Sam a twenty.

"What? You've always liked….okay, got it, no orange."

Sam wasn't in the store ten minutes, but when he returned to the car Dean was asleep. Great, he'd be a joy to coax out of the car and into the motel room. Sam was tempted to leave him in the car until morning. The doctor had prescribed yet another round of antibiotics Sam had just gotten filled. He'd wanted to prescribe Tylenol with codeine but Sam had flat-out refused that as well as cough syrup which left them with Vicks Formula 44D. Gonna be a battle to get Dean to swallow that.

Back at the motel, he cajoled Dean from the car and into the room, not wanting to hear Bobby yell about leaving Dean unattended in the car. Dean didn't put up much of a protest, leading the way into the room, where he pulled off his coat, shucked his jeans and boots and crawled into bed with a mumbled threat to Sam that if he wasn't left alone, Sam would wake up with a broken finger or two.

***000***

"DEAN!" Sam shouted. "Dean?" he came around the corner to find his brother rolling about on the floor, hands clawing at his eyes. Sam was so intent on reaching Dean, he lost his footing when he tried to stop and hit the floor face first. He pushed off his chest with his hands then scrambled to his knees, searching blindly for either his gun or his knife. Now was so not the time to be without a weapon. "DEAN!?"

"Don't move."

Sam froze, more from surprise then fear. The female voice shook but the hand that held a gun on Dean, aimed at his forehead, was steady.

"Ok, ok, ok." Sam raised his hands in surrender, still kneeling on his knees, Dean sprawled and writhing off to his left.

"Just put the gun down before you hurt someone. We don't mean you any harm, ok? Just, aim that thing somewhere else, please?"

They'd tracked Lottie to a town twenty miles from Gavin's cabin and had cornered her in an empty warehouse on the outskirts of town. They had no idea what the hell she was doing in a deserted building but had split up to try to find her. Their intent wasn't to hurt her, just find her, figure out what, if anything she had over Dean and destroy it.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Sam, that's my brother Dean and we're looking for Lottie."

"Who?"

"Charlotte, have you seen her?"

"Dean?" she looked like she was about to vomit. "Oh god, this can't be happening!"

"Please, the gun. Could you maybe, you know, aim that at his foot or something?"

"I'm not going to shoot anyone." she tightened her grip on the gun, Sam licked his lips nervously. "Back off." she warned. "I don't want to hurt anyone, I just want to go home."

"What did you do to him?"

"Pepper spray."

"Carrie? What the hell are you doing?"

Aw hell, Sam winced, his inner thoughts exploding as a second female came up behind the one who faced Sam. One unstable female was more than he could handle, he had no idea what the hell to do with two.

"What is that?" Sam asked suspiciously. "Is that a taser? Don't…..god no, not that…" his already fractured mind split and he was in a hospital, a doctor telling him his brother would be made as comfortable as possible for the next month or so…..until.

He gulped, shaking the vision from his mind, hands reaching out, eyes pleading but this bitch was made of stone. He would rather face a gun than a damn taser. "Please? Put it down, he's not going anywhere, you don't need that." he begged. "Don't…..just, don't."

"Look." the younger of the two girls, Carrie, spoke. She lowered the gun and laid it on the floor then held her hands up. "We don't want to hurt you; we just want to go home."

"No one is stopping you." Sam said urgently. "Just go, we don't have anything against either of you. We're looking for Lottie. Turn around and walk out that door, we aren't going to follow you."

"I'm sorry." the older girl said, looking anything but. "It's a chance I can't take." Dean was closest to her and Sam knew, he just knew who her target was.

"NO!" still on his knees, he lunged forward, gaining his feet in one fluid motion but he was too late. Dean, already on the floor, courtesy of Carrie, reacted with a shriek when the taser discharged.

Sam lost any grip on sanity he'd managed to hold on to. He didn't care if the girl was human, a third his size or that he'd been raised not to beat women. One left fist to the jaw and she was down and out cold, Carrie dropping frantically to her knees at her side.

"Dean? Oh god, Dean?" he was relieved his brother hadn't lost consciousness, least this time he hadn't been standing in water when the taser had incapacitated him. One death by electrocution was all Sam could handle in his lifetime.

"Sammy?" Dean slurred, one hand finding its way to his forehead, feeling for both eye. It appeared he was lying flat on his back on a cold, wet, hard surface and he tried to recall what had happened. He used his other hand to push up from the floor, somehow managing to make it upright to a seated position. He flailed one arm behind him, the other in front searching for a wall or a post or some solid object to lean against, any kind of support and found…...

"Right here Dean."

And then, though he couldn't see, Sam was in front of him, strong steady hands gripping his upper arms and trying to hold him steady. He could feel Sam's breath against his cheek, felt his unshaven jaw against his forehead when Sam let him head butt him as his head, suddenly too heavy to hold up, bobbed forward.

"You okay?" Dean managed to ask, not sure why he felt the need to ask. He couldn't recall Sam being threatened or injured in any way, so either old habits never died or something had happened to Sam he couldn't remember.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine."

Odd how his head fit under Sam's chin and nestled into his shirt, how his cheek felt the warmth of his chest, how his ear heard the reassuring beat of his heart and how that sound was so soothing. His hand bunched the material of his brothers shirt, his grip so tight, Sam gave up trying to break it.

He told himself his child-like clinging to his brother's shirt was to keep Sam focused on him, so he could ground himself to the reality he needed to be there, whole and sane for Dean. Convinced himself that holding on and not letting go of Sam was to prevent his over-the-edge brother from soundly thrashing the girl, not because the feeling of being held was to comforting to give up. Talked himself into believing that in Sam's current state of mind, he was capable of anything, even the death of an innocent girl who was only trying to protect herself.

"Good." he mumbled. "Cause…..I'm not." and he went limp in Sam's arms.

Sam cursed, easing off his knees so that he was seated on his ass while keeping Dean safe in his arms and tucked close. Wasn't easy but he managed to do it. Didn't matter that he wasn't comfortable, didn't matter his thighs protested the strain and his feet were going numb. All that mattered was by maneuvering Dean into the position in which he held him, he was able to reach his hand around his brothers back, ease it under his coat and pull the gun from his waistband, unseen.

He thumbed off the safety, he didn't care if the two girls in front of him had only used pepper spray and a stun-gun, didn't care neither weapon would kill him or his brother, didn't care they were young and apparently human. They'd held a gun on Dean and easily could have used it.

They had incapacitated Dean, which both weapons were designed to do, rather than kill him but neither had taken the opportunity to leave, had in fact, for no reason, tasered him once he'd already been down. It didn't matter if both had reacted out of fear, didn't matter they hadn't meant to kill either him or Dean, if they so much as raised their voice and caused Dean to even wince, he'd put them down with a bullet between the eyes.

First the bitch who had tasered Dean, then her sister who had taken him down with pepper spray. Cause, yeah, he was that good with a gun and the gun he held in his hand, even though it was Dean's, was familiar to him. It was capable of firing two shots in rapid succession. Neither would know what hit them and the younger wouldn't even have the time to realize her sister had been shot dead in front of her before she too, hit the floor.

He could face anything, fight anything, deal with anything, and handle everything anyone or anything could throw at him. He could overcome his fear of clowns, his aversion to fire, his reluctance to drive if Dean was in the car, his mind-numbing fear when a gun was held to Dean's head. He could face an unknown-never-heard-of before enemy, confront a snake, cause let's be honest, if it didn't have legs it belonged in a deep body of water, kill in cold blood if need be, put aside blind panic, conquer visions and nightmares and memories of hell and of the year when he'd been without Dean, but face a taser?

The bitch was dead.

"SAM!"

He blinked, hearing his name being called repeatedly. Carrie was staring at him, her eyes huge, leaking silent tears as she begged him not to shoot them. Dean stirred against him, likely responding to Bobby's frantic shouting. Sam's attention was diverted three ways. His brother, who was hurt and suffering in his arms; Bobby, the only man in the world other than his brother he trusted who shouted his name in uncontrolled panic, and the two girls on the floor who he wanted dead.

"SAM! dammit!, please? SAM!"

Dean squirmed, this time with a murmur and Sam lowered the gun to hug him close with both arms, shushing him. Carrie cast him a scared look, then scrambled to her feet and ran to the door.

"Here! We're in here!" she called. "Help us!"

The sounds of Bobby puffing and panting down the hallway announced his arrival, gun in one hand, knife in the other. He came barreling through the door, ready to shoot, whack or stab only to trip over this own feet, falling forward onto his hands and knees, gun and knife scattering as his brain registered the scene on the floor before him.

For the second time in his life, he was witnessing a scene he had never wanted to see. This time, the positions were reversed, but the sight of one brother holding the other in unveiled anguish, hurt worse than anything in his life ever had and that included the loss of his wife, twice.

He spared a glance to the unconscious girl on the floor, not Lottie and breathing so he turned his attention to the one standing by the door. There was still Sam to protect. She had made no move to retrieve Sam's lost gun or knife but that didn't mean she was harmless.

"Please." she held her hands up. "We mean you no harm."

"Sam?" Bobby gained his feet with assistance from the wall and shakily made his way over to kneel beside him. "Sam, are you with me boy? Can you tell me what happened?" he tugged the gun from Sam's limp fingers, the quick look he'd taken at the girl on the floor had told him how she'd come to be unconscious.

He could never be certain of Sam's state of mind. If pressed, he'd have to admit, that yes, he believed Sam to be truly capable of killing anyone who stood between him and his brother. He didn't want to contemplate what might have happened had he not gotten there when he did.

"Bobby."

Bobby let his breath out, feeling light-headed. He hadn't even been aware he'd been holding it. Sam recognized him and was responsive. That meant two things. Dean was injured, not dead and Sam was, for the moment anyway, lucid and in control.

"What are you doing with Dean's gun?" Bobby asked, wanting to draw Sam's complete attention to him and away from the girls.

"We lost Lottie." Sam told him, going through the motions, unattached to the here and now. "Ran into those two…the one standing sprayed him in the face with pepper spray, the other….tasered him."

"Wait…what?" Bobby tried to catch up. "Sam, those are human weapons, meant to incapacitate, not kill… yeah, okay last time was different. He electrocuted himself Sam." Bobby removed his hat and scratched his head. "Are you telling me Lottie…didn't do this? What did she do then? How did she hurt him? Sam, I gotta know, I can't help him if…"

"What are you talking about?" Carrie had returned to sit beside her sister but she was paying the unconscious girl no attention whatsoever, focused entirely on the conversation between the two men in front of her. "Charlotte wouldn't do anything to hurt Dean."

"Listen kid, you obviously don't know her as well as you thought she did, she's a witch…." Bobby said impatiently.

"No, she's not."

"Not a bitch, a witch…."

"I heard you, and I understand you." she got to her feet. "Charlotte isn't a witch, I would know. I was born and raised and still live in the town where Gavin built his cabin and there's a reason he did so. Most of the town is…..normal, hunters aren't common or well-known."

"Hunters?" Bobby repeated, he glanced at Sam but he was in no way following the conversation. His eyes were vacant, the look on his face was of vague disinterest, so no help there. "What do you know about hunters?"

"Not a lot, just that Gavin is one and he doesn't hunt cute furry wildlife." she knelt again as her sister moaned, coming to. "Charlotte didn't do anything to Dean, she wouldn't do that…wouldn't hurt him I mean."

"But you had no problem doing so." Sam accused, shifting Dean as he prepared to stand, moving his legs around to gain his feet.

"You were chasing us with guns."

"We were chasing Lottie, we just wanted some answers from her." Bobby said.

"About what?" Carrie demanded, patience at end. "So she had a crush on Dean, so what? He picked her up, took her home, played house with her until Sam came to get him."

"Dean never led her on."

"She's not stalking him, geesch."

"You sure about that?" Sam scoffed.

"Her affection for Dean is not, by any means, normal." Bobby argued. "If you know about hunters, then you know…."

"Charlotte isn't a witch but that doesn't mean she doesn't know one." Carrie paused, looking thoughtful. "Dean's illness was not a result of a hex or a spell, Charlotte wouldn't know anything about that. All you can blame is a virus and his weak immune system."

"Do you believe she knows a witch?" Bobby pushed her along.

"I know she does." Carrie stated emphatically. "And I believe the witch may have unwittingly given her an…idea….and a way….."

"On how to get Dean?" Bobby pressed, helping Sam stand up and checking him over for injury.

"No." Carrie was still scared of Sam and once he was standing, she backed away from him. "On how to get rid of Sam."

"And you would know this how?" Bobby wasn't feeling so good. Dean had managed to make it to his knees where he was doubled over and rocking, forehead nearly to the floor.

"My grandmother." Carried said nervously, Sam was looking at her and she moved further away. "Is the witch who aided her."

Bobby had no idea how the gun came to once again be in Sam's hand. He blinked and the gun was cocked and sited directly between Carrie's eyes.

"Whoa, Sam, what are you doing?" Bobby forgot all about Charlotte and witches and the puddle of fried nerves on the floor at his feet that was currently Dean. "Take it easy there kid, you don't want to do anything stupid."

"A witch is involved Bobby."

"She's just a kid.

"She just admitted her grandmother is a witch. Some say it's in the blood Bobby."

"Yeah, ok, sure, but let's think about this…..Sam." he felt himself sweating. "Lottie didn't make Dean sick; he had a cold before we ever sent him to Montana. She didn't single him out in the bar and plot to make him sicker."

"Maybe not, but she refused to let him to go, refused to go away, refused to leave him alone. She plied some kind of witch craft Bobby, she….." he pointed at Carrie. "Just admitted it."

"Yeah, ok, no, Lottie did and we'll deal with it Sam, deal with Lottie, come on, stand down, okay?"

"A witch Bobby! You know what kind of chaos and havoc they can cause! Evil bitches…"

"Hey!" Carrie pulled herself up. "My grama is not evil! She's a good witch."

"No such thing." Sam steadied his arm.

"Sammy." Dean used a crate and the wall to pull himself to his feet. Sam's other arm snaked around his waist and he couldn't bring himself to move away. He swayed and his knees buckled. "K, so…maybe…not such a….good idea." the room spun in rapid color, causing him to become dizzy as light and darkness twirled and meshed, causing the floor to rise up and the walls to move in. "Oh."

Sam let him go and stared in dismay as Dean fell at his feet. "Did he just faint?"

"I think so." Bobby nodded. "Let's get outta here." he collected Sam's gun and knife and handed them back to him. "You need any help carrying him?" while Bobby wasn't at all happy Dean had passed out, he had to admit him doing so had pulled Sam's attention away from the girls; in fact, he forgot all about them and focused completely on Dean.

"Guess not." he sighed, tucking both his and Dean's gun into the waist of his jeans and sliding his knife into its sheath under his coat.

"Aahh, are we agreed then?" Bobby reached down to haul Dean into a sitting position so it would be easier for Sam to stand up and shoulder his weight. "We let them go?"

"I don't want to see them again." Sam turned away. "Can you go pull the truck closer?"

"Yeah, come on girls, let's get you going before he changes his mind."

Once Sam had Dean slung over his right shoulder, Bobby ushered the girls ahead of him and out of the room, leaving Sam to follow at a slower pace.

"Well, well, hello Sammy." Lottie smiled sweetly. "Good to see you again, and look what you have there, how nice of you to bring him to me."

"Lottie." Sam didn't move. "What do you want?"

"I think that's obvious. He's right there in your arms."

"You can't have him." Sam was slowly easing his left hand behind his back towards his gun. "I won't let you take him Lottie. I'm leaving and he's going with me, not you and you can't stop me."

"Oh." she raised her arm. "I think I can."

A dart hit Sam in the thigh and though he immediately plucked it from his skin, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy. He blinked, Dean's weight becoming too much to hold as his knees buckled.

"If you hurt him…do anything to him…I will kill you." his words together and his last coherent thought was whether or not Bobby would arrive in time to stop her from taking Dean and disappearing. How she would manage to do that, didn't cross his mind.

"Silly Sam." she chided as she stalked closer. "I would never do anything to hurt him." she toed Sam along his hip, not wanting to get too close until she was sure she had indeed knocked him out. "You, on the other hand, are in my way." she knelt next to him and reached out to push up the jeans on his right leg and untie his boot. "I just need some time to...aaah, convince him to see things my way and I can't have you chasing after us."

Dean stirred, instinct telling him something was wrong. He couldn't see and with his head fuzzy, his ears were muffled. He could hear her talking and though he couldn't make out the actual words, he somehow knew she was doing something to Sam and that he was about to be Dean-napped.

"What...are you...ugh...doing...mmmm...to him?" he carefully disentangled himself from Sam and eased onto his back, gun now in hand. He waited for her to speak and give away her location. All he could see were blurred colors and he prayed that when she moved, he would be able to detect movement.

"Dean." she said softly. "Relax, I will not harm him." she soothed. "I know what that would do to you and I would never hurt you like that."

"Move away...from...him." he raised his hand, able to level the gun at her chest. He would have preferred a head shot, but he would settle for the larger target.

"You don't want to shoot me. I'm not going to hurt him Dean. I just don't want him to chase after us."

"I'm...not..." he swallowed hard, nausea was looming, caused by his forced concentration to focus. "goin...anywhere...with you." it was hard to take breaths deep enough required to speak.

"Oh." she nodded, patting Sam's leg and sitting back on her heels. "You are."

"Hell No, he ain't!" Bobby raised the shot-gun and fired.


	6. Chapter 6

"Carrie!" Kelly yelled, reaching out to grab her sister more for balance than to stop her from running back to the room they had just left. She needed her support to keep walking, her head was spinning and she found walking in a straight line to be so difficult she couldn't manage it on her own. "Carrie, damn you!" she slumped against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. She needed a few minutes for her head to clear before chasing after the younger girl.

"Sam!" Carrie ran through the door, finding both brothers lying on the floor with Bobby kneeling next to Sam, prying open an eye. "What happened?"

"Lottie." Bobby snapped.

"Where is she? You didn't hurt her, did you?" Carrie glanced around, walking over to the window. "Charlotte!"

"You don't see no body lying around, do ya? She's gone." Bobby felt for a pulse and appeared satisfied that Sam would be ok and moved down to his leg. "Shudda shot the….." he was mumbling to himself. Great, he couldn't carry Sam or Dean and it didn't appear either were going to be in any shape to be doing any walking anytime soon.

"I don't know why you're so mad at Charlotte." Carrie said hotly. "I've known her my entire life."

"Yeah? And how long has she been crazy?"

"She's not crazy!"

"She went home with a man she didn't know jack shit about after picking him up in bar. She decided to hunt him down with the help of two witches, god knows what the hell she just did to Sam…"

"My sister and I are not witches!" she argued. "I'm sure she didn't hurt Sam and she's not hunting down Dean. We've all been friends forever, she said Dean sent her texts to meet up with him and we didn't want her meeting him alone. Who knew what kind of guy he was!" Carrie was all defense and anger then her shoulders sagged and she came over to stand beside Sam. "We didn't know until we got here that Dean wasn't….exactly returning her affection."

"Ok, so you're crazy and stupid because you're so-called friend is one unstable bitch." Bobby turned his attention to Sam who was moaning and beginning to stir. "That's it Sam, come on, wake up. We can't stay here, we gotta get going." he slapped at Sam's cheeks, pinching him as he repeatedly called his name. "Thatta boy, hey….you with me?" he wished for cold water to splash in his face and settled for another slap. "SAM!"

"Mmmm…oh god….Bobby?" he was becoming more aware. "DEAN!" he jerked upright, hand reaching out to touch Dean's shoulder. "Lottie? She….shot me with a dart…where'd she go? She wanted Dean, Bobby."

"I know….how you feeling? Ok?" Bobby awkwardly patted his shoulder, not wanting him to panic further.

"Guess." he took Bobby's outstretched hand and let him pull him to a seated position. "Feel a little weird, but….I'm ok."

"It was just a herb." Carrie explained. "Meant to knock you out for ten minutes or so, it'll wear off quickly."

"Good, cause we need to get the hell out of here." Bobby said. "Before she returns with some method to take us out."

"You aren't going anywhere." Kelly had staggered to the door and was holding a hand to the side of her face. "Carrie, his ankle…we need to get them to Grama. If she did indeed give Charlotte some ideas on how to entice a man, then she also gave her ways to eliminate competition."

"Um, competition? Who? Me? Not hardly." Sam was brushing the dirt from his clothes, gearing up to gain his feet.

"That's not how Charlotte sees you." Kelly pushed away from the wall. "Call Grama, have her meet us at…..aah, you think our hunting cabin is within two miles of here?"

"Yes. What should I tell her?"

"Tell her the truth….tell her it's Charlotte."

***000***

Dean woke up reluctantly, returned to awareness, regained consciousness, call it whatever, he fought it but apparently his body had decided it'd had enough sleep. He saw no point in moving, he didn't know how he'd gotten to wherever he was, didn't know who he was with, didn't know the situation and couldn't remember what had happened. So, he lay awake, eyes closed and let his senses return to him in whatever order they wished to do so; smell of fire and coffee, sound of muffled voices coming from another room - pain.

He gingerly moved first one arm, then the other, easily identified the softness of a mattress and crisp sheets against his bare legs and bare feet. A quick, panicked check with his hands told him he wore a shirt and underwear. Well, that was something to be grateful for. That and the fact he wasn't either tied up or tied down. The relief he felt over being dressed and unrestrained as well as sensing no threat from sound or smell, gave him the courage to turn his head towards where he assumed the door to be and blink open his eyes to survey the room.

He knew even as his eyes refused to focus that he was comfortable and warm and the blurry sight of a glass of water on the table next to the bed told him safety and security was a whimper away. He kicked at the blankets, feeling hot and sweaty, knowing if he made a sound, any vocal sound at all, Sam would appear in the doorway. And lordy, he was sorely tempted, cause damn, if he didn't feel like shit. There was a comfy recliner in the corner, a pillow lay abandoned on the arm and a blanket lay askew across it, as if someone had been asleep and gotten up with the intent to return.

Since it didn't look like he was being held hostage, if he wanted too, he could get out of bed and leave the room. Find the bathroom, find Sam, and find out where the hell he was and who was in the other room. As he thought about putting his plan into motion, the room began to spin sickeningly and the simple act of lifting his head from the pillow caused bile to rise in his throat.

Ok, new plan, he'd remain where he was and let Sam come to him. Besides, his befuddled brain had a few things backwards. Sam was the whiny, emotional Winchester who spilled about how he felt and what he wanted. Dean was the suck-it-up, deal-with-any issues with sarcastic quips and poorly timed jokes, Winchester.

"Hey." came softly from the doorway. Dean tuned his head to squint up at Sam, trying and failing once again to force his eyes into focus. "Dean? You awake?"

"Where are we?" Dean swallowed hard. He didn't feel good at all. All he knew was, he was with Sam and Sam appeared to be ok and in control of the situation. That had to be enough because he was too sick and too disoriented to pull himself together and face whatever the hell was going on. "We….ok?"

"For now." he moved into the room, actually sat down on the bed. Dean frowned, what was wrong with the chair? "How you feeling? Okay?"

"Dunno." he licked his lips, eyes straying to the glass of water, ordering Sam to get off the bed forgotten as he reached for the glass. His arm trembled and he let it drop back to the mattress. He wouldn't ask, maybe he'd try again in another couple of minutes. "You…..?" he meant to crack wise about Sam sitting on the bed but couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't really want to question his own reluctance either.

"I'm fine. We're okay here for a couple of days." Sam picked up the glass and stuck a straw in it. "Wanna sit up?"

"No. Who's here? I heard voices." he eased up on one elbow, still reclined and took the glass, thankful he didn't have to drink from it, three cheers for the straw.

"Carrie and Kelly."

"Who? Are we held captive?"

"Friends of Lottie's and no, they're caught up in this, just trying to help us end it." Sam eyed his brother, taking in the pale, sweaty pallor of his face. "Look, we'll talk about it later, go ahead and go back to sleep."

"Where the hell are we Sam?" he bit out, something told him not to let the subject go.

"Dunno." Sam shrugged. "Cabin."

"How did we get here? Where's my car?"

"Dunno." he wasn't so flippant this time.

"You don't know?" Dean repeated. "Wadda ya mean, you don't know? How can you not know where it is you left my car?"

"You're the one who left the motel in it, I had to….acquire one to chase after you. I caught up to you in a warehouse with those two, Lottie was nowhere to be found…..this cabin is about two miles or so into the woods from the warehouse. I walked back there, car I stole was torched…no, not yours, jesus man, breathe…"

"You lost my car?" his voice rose an octave, Sam had a hand on the back of his neck, ready to shove his head down so he could concentrate on regulating his breathing. "Saa…..mmm."

"Better the car than you and I didn't lose it, it wasn't there when I arrived, so why don't you tell me where you left it? The girls claim to have arrived with Lottie in a Blazer, it wasn't anywhere to be found and when I walked back, I couldn't find the Impala either. Keys were in your pocket." he pointed over to a dresser. "So? Any idea?"

"How did I get here?" Dean demanded, trying and failing to recall where he'd left his car. If Sam hadn't found it anywhere near the warehouse, then where the hell was it? He wasn't feeling any better and his mind and memories were fuzzy at best, unlikely to remember at worst.

Sam was silent, slightly rotating his left shoulder. Dean handed the glass back, but didn't lie back down, knowing the gesture for what it was telling him. He knew he should make himself get up, find out what was going on, figure out what had happened, ensure Sam was ok, handling his emotions and not in immediate danger of freaking out. Sam had to be tired if he'd carried Dean, a dead weight, over his shoulder for a hike of two or more miles. But…..damn, his arms and legs twinged and jerked and twitched until he wanted to cry.

"We couldn't find the Impala, the car I stole and Bobby's truck both had slashed tires so we had to walk." Sam was explaining but his voice sounded distant and Dean struggled to remain awake.

His body, however, had vast different ideas and for the second time in less than ten minutes, it had its own way. Nausea, blurred vision, ringing ears and a pounding headache was one symptom to many to overcome and he allowed Sam to push him down onto his back, let the warmth of his brother's hand linger longer than he would normally be comfortable with; himself it was Sam who needed the contact, Sam who sought comfort, Sam who needed to be consoled and not the other way around.

"Sleep it off." Sam murmured. He'd had both time and Bobby to convince him Dean wasn't seriously injured and in all probability, would be fine after a few more hours of sleep. A human body needed time to recover from injury, even Dean's. All he needed was sleep and though Sam wished he could allow Dean to get as much as he wanted, the truth was, come morning, Dean needed to be up, out of bed and able to fully function.

Dean gave a slight nod, eyes already closed when he felt Sam lean across him over the bed. Curious as to why, since Sam should have stood up and headed towards the door, he cracked open one eye and squinted up, eyes finally cooperating and bringing the room into focus.

"Holy Shit!" Dean exploded, pain, nausea and discomfort forgotten, he sat upright in bed with a strength he only exhibited when his or Sam's very lives were in danger. "Sam!"

"WHAT?" Sam was on his feet, twirling around in a protective stance, gun in one hand, knife in the other, prepared to take on anything that presented itself. "Where? What? What is it?"

"What the hell…..?" Dean ducked as Sam's arm swung over his head as he continued to sweep the room in search of whatever threat Dean had seen. "Sam! Knock it off, Christ!"

"What did you see? What is it?"

Dean came up onto his knees on the bed and eased the knife from Sam's tense grasp, pushing the hand holding the gun towards the floor. "Easy there Sammy, nothing's here. I thought you said you were ok? Jesus dude, have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"Aaaah, no." he said wearily, rubbing a hand down his face. "Why?" his shoulders remained tense, his body poised to tackle any threat as if he expected it to emerge from the wall.

"Why?" Dean repeated incredulously. "How long have we been here?" he'd seen his brother hurt, ill, beaten bloody, beaten unconscious, had seen him experience grief, remorse, failure and utter devastation, had seen him through withdrawal, after detox, after captivity and dead and never once, in Sam's 29 years of life had Dean ever seen him looking like he did now. "Sam? You're scaring me here dude, what the hell happened?"

Sam gave Dean a curious look, tucking his gun back into his waistband and retrieving the knife from Dean.

"Sam. Talk to me." Dean forced himself to soften his voice. He'd been the one to have pepper spray splashed in eyes, not Sam, yet his brother's eyes were so red and dry the skin around his sockets had dried and split. His eyelids were swollen and purple shadows layered to his cheek bones. He hadn't shaved in several days and the pallor of his face made Dean suspect he hadn't eaten or had much to drink lately.

"We got here….." he lifted his arm and glanced at the watch on his wrist. "About five, maybe six hours ago, you don't remember then?"

"I…aah, remember being sprayed in the face with pepper spray….." he laid down, well, fell onto his side then eased over onto his back. His burst of energy expended, he didn't have the stamina to remain sitting.

"Yeah, Carrie, her sister….um, Kelly, she…aaah….turns out they're friends of Lottie's, er, Charlotte…" Sam walked around the bed and retrieved the wash cloth he'd been reaching for when Dean had freaked out. "How do your eyes feel anyway? Want another cloth with cold water? Seemed to help you settle down earlier."

"What did Kelly do to you?" Dean demanded angrily, he swore he'd get out of that bed and shake the bitch until her teeth rattled if she was in any way responsible for Sam's haggard appearance. Sam appeared to be doing ok mentally, if not physically, but Dean wasn't able to judge how he was doing emotionally. Not good if the looks of him.

"To me?" Sam gave a snort. "Nothing, you're the one she tasered."

"Taser..? Oh." Dean understood, he'd been tasered by a stun-gun wielded by Kelly and Sam had witnessed the attack. They didn't have tasers in their arsenal of weapons, not since Dean had nearly died and only an act of the supernatural found by Sam had saved his life. Well hell, no wonder he felt like shit, being tasered sucked.

"Wait….." it was coming back to him, first in painful flashes, then in embarrassing memories. "Awww, hell!" he muttered, blushing as he recalled crawling towards Sam, allowing Sam to grab him and pull him close, and fu…he didn't actually…no, he had not snuggled against his brothers chest and then pass out in his arms. No...just no.

He wasn't able to raise his head and meet Sam's eyes, all he could do was stare at the wall and wish he could bury himself under the blankets and hide from his brother's all-knowing smirk. Why was he always the one who did stupid shit and remembered it? Couldn't he just once, not recall a dream or a hallucination or a moment of weakness? Geesch!

Sam left the room to give Dean a moment to compose himself, he wasn't going to tease him or bring up his moment of weakness. Sam never wanted to see a taser again but he couldn't deny the feeling of warmth he felt whenever he remembered Dean wanting him when he'd been hurt. If Dean would accept his offer of comfort and take refuge in the security he offered, Sam couldn't be completely sorry whenever the opportunity presented.

"Here." Sam returned, the towel now wet with cold water. "You should get some sleep."

"Sam, I'm gonna ask you once, and I want you to be honest with me, ok? No avoiding the truth, no half-assed answers, I don't remember….everything yet…." he looked away, still unable to meet Sam's eyes, still embarrassed. Liar, Sam grinned, ducking his head to hide his smile. "But, if…shit, is she alive?"

"Is who alive?' Sam asked perplexed.

"Taser-wielding bitch?"

"Oh." Sam handed Dean the towel. "Yeah, yeah she is. So's Lottie."

Dean laid down, laying the towel over his eyes, deciding he could take several minutes and let the wetness soothe his eyes before deciding what he'd need to do. He didn't dare go to sleep, despite what Sam said, he was not ok. Dean didn't doubt Sam had told him the truth and the girl still breathed, but that didn't mean Sam was dealing well with having to see her, of having her around.

"SAM!"

Dean flung the cloth from his eyes and bolted upright, relaxing only when Sam laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Is that Bobby?" he no longer felt the need to bolt from the bed and charge from the room to confront whatever threat was coming their way.

Sam nodded, pushing Dean back down onto the mattress and retrieving the discarded towel. "Course it is, where'd you think he'd be?" he slapped the towel back over Dean's eyes. "Stay put."

"Okay." made sense now why Sam was so calm. Bobby had been with him this whole time. "Hey Bobby." he waved a limp wrist in the general direction of the door. His recent lurch into a vertical position wasn't exactly agreeing with him.

"About time you woke up." Bobby drawled, more concerned with Sam than bothered about Dean. "Sam, you doing ok?"

"Fine Bobby, stop worrying."

"Can't help but do so…Dean? How you doing?"

"Um, yeah, let me get back to you on that." he said weakly, voice faint as he fought through muscle spasms. "You need to find my car."

"You need to sleep and stop fussing about that damn car….Sam, give us a minute." Bobby motioned him from the room, thinking Dean might open up about how he was really doing once he was assured he wouldn't freak Sam out. "Well?" Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. "Spit it out. How bad you doing?"

"Oh, fine, I'm fine." he wheezed. No he wasn't, it was only a matter of minutes before his stomach rebelled.

"Uh-huh, well ok, good, glad to hear that, so then, get up, we got us some work to do."

"Ga—wd." Dean moaned. "You truly hate me, don't you?" he swallowed hard, choking back bile as he fought for dominance over his belly. "Don't you possess even an ounce of sympathy?"

"How about some honesty here? We ain't exactly in the best situation, your brother is glued together and duct taped up, what the hell am I up against?"

"With me? Hell, I dunno, just lemme here…..I ain't moving." he wiped the sweat from his face with the crook of his arm, yup, long-sleeves. "Twice in one life time is more than any man should be electrocuted."

"Whadda ya mean? Twice? You don't remember the first time, you done knocked yourself out!" Bobby didn't need to be told, he saw Dean turn green and picked a bowl up from the dresser. "So, that's the way it's gonna be, huh? Great."


	7. Chapter 7

Sam joined the girls in the kitchen of the small cabin they were holed up in. It consisted of three rooms. Two bedrooms on either end of a large room that served as living room with fireplace, two chairs and a sofa and a kitchenette with table, four chairs, sink and wood stove.

"He ok?' Carrie asked nervously, she was still scared to death of him. He had chosen not to take their lives when they'd attacked Dean but she didn't trust him, didn't want to be with him and didn't want to have him around. She couldn't deny their current situation was her fault. She'd been the one convinced Dean had meant Charlotte harm, her sister had only been trying to protect her. She hadn't wanted Dean dead, she'd just wanted to be away from him.

"Do you care?"

"Hey!" Kelly was in his face. "Leave her alone."

"Don't push me." Sam growled. "No, Carrie, he is not ok. He's in pain and he can't see and his body has to sufficiently recover from needlessly being zapped with 700,000 bolts of electricity. I can't give him what he needs because we can't leave. I have to find a way to talk him out of killing Lottie when I want to kill her myself. Despite what you think about us, we don't make it a habit to go around killing people."

"We're not going to let you kill anyone Sam." Kelly argued. Sam was really getting sick of her; if had Dean been the one dealing with her, she'd be tied to a chair with duct tape over her mouth. "We want to find Charlotte and make sure she's ok. Do you really think we want to be here with you?"

"There's the door!" Sam yelled. "I'm not stopping you from leaving, in fact, I wish you would go! Get out, get lost, go away, go shopping, go do whatever girls your age do, you know how to get back to town, this is your cabin, isn't it? I don't care what you do. I don't need this; I don't need you on my back and I don't want you here! We wouldn't be in this situation in the first place if you had kept your nose in your own business. You're the one who took Dean down and he was no threat to you. Now we have to wait for your grandmother and pray she's able to help us. I'd tell you to go look at what you did to him but if I catch either of you anywhere near him, I'll start breaking bones. You keep pushing me, and I swear to god, Lottie won't be the only one who has reason to fear me."

"Kel." Carrie murmured. "Stop. This is our fault and we owe them our help." she gathered her courage and raised her head to meet Sam's angry eyes "So, um, he woke up? He's…..ok, right? I mean, he can see?"

"We don't have to stay here and listen to him Carrie." Kelly fumed angrily. "He's not in charge, we don't even know him. We're here to help him and he acts like…"

"He didn't kill you and he still wants too and we believed Charlotte without really understanding the situation. Grama will have a cow when she realizes what Charlotte has done and the part we played in her little game." she still held Sam's gaze but she spoke to her sister. "Charlotte lied to us Kel, she told us Dean wanted to meet her here and then she left us to confront him on our own when it became clear he wanted nothing to do with her. She let us believe he was going to hurt her." she turned her attention back to Sam. "So? Will he be able….I mean, is he….?"

"He's ok." Sam admitted gruffly. "But the two of you stay the hell away from him. Am I clear?"

***000***

Dean woke up alone and got up before the time Sam had set to wake him. He found his jeans and his socks and boots and got dressed before venturing from the bedroom. One look around the rustic room and he knew there was no use looking for a door that led to a bathroom. If he was lucky, there'd be an outhouse, if he wasn't, he wondered how far from the cabin Sam would let him go on his own.

"Hey there, hi ya." Dean greeted as he stepped into the outer room and crossed the short distance to the table where a girl, maybe eighteen years of age, sat. "Any coffee?"

She jumped with a squeak, scrambling to her feet in such haste she knocked the chair over, tangled her foot around the upturned legs and crashed to the floor. Dean halted where he stood, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Hey, take it easy." he soothed. He felt better than he had the first time he'd woken up, but by no means, did he feel up to an altercation with a kid. "Where's Sam?"

"Out-outsi-side." she stammered. "Looking, at-at-at the, god I'm so sorry." her hand flew to her mouth. He held a hand out to help her to her feet but she crabbed-crawled backwards away from him. "Ugh, um, so, can you see?"

"Everything's still a little blurry, but I can make out objects, so, what's Sam doing?" he dropped his hand, not sure why she was scared of him. When he made no further gesture towards her, she warily climbed to her feet.

"He's aah, trying to pick the lock. We need…to….eeeek!" she leapt to the other side of the table when Dean moved towards her. "Oh god, oh god…..don't, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"Relax." Dean said easily, he really wanted some coffee and he didn't understand why she was so nervous and scared to be near him. That didn't make sense, he'd never threatened her. "Just want some coffee doll…so, what's this about a lock?"

"Please, just let me pass, ok? You can have the entire cabin, if you just let me leave, I don't mean….."

"You don't have to leave, I'm dressed. I don't mean you any harm." he placed her as the girl who had sprayed him in the face with pepper spray and here he'd thought her harmless.

"I'm not supposed to go anywhere near you, please, just let me go."

Dean frowned; the kid was shaking, eyes darting towards the door as if she was truly trapped. "Okay, ok, just take it easy." he stepped aside. "Go on…so you're sister still think I'm evil?"

"I don't want my bones broken." she wailed. "Oh god…"

Dean's eyes went wide. Broken bones? Why the hell would she think he meant her bodily harm? Even when she'd confronted him and threatened him with the pepper spray, he hadn't reacted towards her actions with violence or even a raised voice, there was no reason she should be scared of him…

"SAM!" he bellowed, moving towards the door. And where the hell was Bobby?

"No, no, no, no, don't tell on me, honest, I didn't know you'd gotten up or I would have gone outside."

"Sam's not going to hurt you." Dean sighed. "Let me guess, he threatened you if you came near me? He's all bluff kiddo, so where is he?"

"Out…side in the….shed."

Dean frowned. Shed? Doing what? Sam couldn't have told him what the hell was going on when he'd woken up? Probably, and Dean would have wanted to stick his nose in it and run the show. Now that he thought back, Sam had judged him, gauging his condition and had made the decision to leave him be. Sam knew him, knew that sleep was the fastest way to recovery and would do whatever he could to ensure Dean got all the sleep he could.

"What's he doing out in…..the shed?"

"That's where the tools are." she gave him an odd look. "For the lock."

"Why don't we just leave?" Dean asked, finally pouring the cup of coffee he just had to have. It was instant but he didn't care. "Mmmmm, sooo goood." he frowned. "Lock? What lock?"

"We can't leave, I mean, well, we could, but Sam can't."

Coffee turned to mud and Dean was unable to swallow what he had in his mouth. Turning, he spit into a bucket and before Carrie could fathom what he was doing, he was around the table, his hands were around her wrists and he had her pinned with her back against the wall.

"What did you just say?"

She blanched and began to shake, trying hard not to whimper. "He….. Oh god, please, just let me go!"

"What's wrong with Sam?"

"Charlotte! She, she…she….if he gives you to her, she'll…there's a key…..but there's another way..!"

"Son-uva-bitch!" Dean charged out the back door, splintering it as it bounced off the wall and sprung from the door frame.

"Sam! WHERE the HELL are YOU?" he bellowed, striding across the back lawn.

"Right here! What's wrong?" he came running around the corner of the shed. "Oh." he cursed Carrie and her inability to keep her mouth shut. "Dean, let's talk about this." Kelly followed, keeping a safe distance between them.

"Talk? Talk about what Sam? What is it? Poison? Curse? Spell? You let me sleep for hours while you're - you're what? Infected? And where the fuck is Bobby?"

"Dean, you were tasered. I don't care how tough you think you are, your body isn't that strong. Ok, yeah, you overcome more shit sooner than any other human but even you need time to recover, maybe not as long, but you can't just bounce right back." Sam sighed. "No spell, no poison, no curse, relax."

"You're babbling." he looked around, searching for the outhouse. "You better be prepared to tell me everything soon as I'm back or I swear to god, I'll show you just recovered I am."

Kelly handed Sam the screwdriver she'd been holding. "I think I'll let you handle this one alone, good luck."

The last thing Sam wanted was to engage in a fist fight with his brother. Dean wasn't up to full strength yet, but Sam wasn't exactly at the top of his game either. Worry and concern over Dean had worn him down. He'd yet to recover the strength he'd expended carrying Dean and he was forced to admit, he probably wouldn't for another couple of days.

Dean's odd behavior that included his desire and willingness to allow Sam close after he'd been tasered tugged on Sam's emotional stability. The situation they were in, the two girls he didn't care about, because as far as he was concerned, they were the cause of this whole mess, and the ticking clock until his meeting with Charlotte all weighed heavily on his mind. That didn't even include his small problem that required an answer in forty-eight hours.

"That..was..disgusting." Dean announced, returning from his short trek to the outhouse. "I feel….dirty." he started to walk towards the shed; Sam fell in step beside him.

"There's a….." he noticed Dean's face and hair were wet. "Guess you found the stream."

"How long?" Dean followed his brother into the shed. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Forty-eight hours."

"From when?"

"From now, look Dean, I'm not stupid, yeah, you needed time to sleep, to get some rest but if I hadn't had the time to allow you to get it, I wouldn't have. I would have told you everything."

"You will now."

"Yes." Sam agreed. "I'd really like to have our lock picks with us."

"Charlotte Sam, when did she find us and what did she do?"

"You don't remember?"

"Nothing since the warehouse."

"Carrie took you down with pepper spray, Kelly tasered you. They thought you were playing some romantic game with Lottie and wanted her to end it by meeting you at the warehouse. She told them I'd be with you and they just needed to distract me while you and she had some 'Quality Alone Time Together.' When they got here, she claimed you threatened her when you found out she had brought them to amuse me."

"What? That doesn't make any sense Sam! What is this, high school?"

"Yeah, pretty much, Carrie is only seventeen and Kelly is not much older…"

"Lottie said she was like, twenty-six."

"Right, women never lie." Sam rolled his eyes. "Anyway, they were… a little startled to find out we were so old…"

"Old? I'm not old, they think I'm old?" he huffed. "Which one thinks I'm old?"

"Will you shut up?" Sam said impatiently. "Bobby wouldn't let me shoot either of them. He was Lottie's mistake, she counted on me being there but not him. Once he had…me and the girls, the situation under control, he and the girls left to go pull the truck up to the doors. Lottie shot me in the leg with a dart that knocked me out. Dunno how she meant to get you outta that warehouse, you sure as hell weren't walking out, course, she didn't plan on her friends knocking you out…..anyway, Bobby came back for us, scared her off. By the time I felt strong enough to carry you out, she'd slashed the tires on the car and Bobby's truck, we couldn't find the Impala and she was gone."

"She better not have done anything to my car."

"Dunno why you can't get a stalker like everyone else." Sam sighed. "We might not need her anyway, it's the reason Kelly still breathes. Seems their grandmother is a practicing witch…. A good witch, who knew there was such a thing? She answered what she thought were innocent questions from Lottie, so if we can get to her within the next twenty-four hours, she'll have time to reverse whatever Lottie has done."

"You know how I feel about witches Sam."

"Shudda thought about that before you picked one up in a bar, took her home and played house for two weeks."

"She wasn't a witch!" he growled. "What the fuck did she do?"

"That's what makes this all the worse….she doesn't know what the hell she's doing."

"Sam, why are we here? Where the hell is Bobby?"

"Walked back to look for the Impala."

"Why are we out here? Hell, why are we even here? This cabin…with them." Dean was well on his way to working himself into a hyper rant. "Let's just go, the Impala can't be that far. Hell, call a freaking cab, we have cell's right?"

"We…..aah can't." Sam sighed again. "Least, I can't." he held his hands up to ward Dean off and try to calm him down. "Lottie, um….." he lifted his right foot from the ground and lowered a hand to pull his pant leg up to reveal a plastic band with a large box buckled around his ankle. "She sent Kelly a text with her demands."

"What the fuck is that?" Dean demanded, causing Sam to give him a reproving look over his language. "Seriously?" Dean demanded, taking offense at the 'look'. "You're going to stand there and give me shit over my language? Are you kidding me? Sam! Come on! Get a fucking grip! What is that?"

"Call it a…well….we're waiting for the girls Grandmother to get here but far as Kelly can tell, it's an electronic device that only allows me to go within two miles from the place where it was activated." Sam was still calm. "She meant to take you and prevent me from following you. She knew the girls would call their grandmother to come help me but by then, she would have enough time to disappear with you."

"WHAT?" he cried, hands going to hold to his head. "So, what? You're saying she's got you collared like a dog with an invisible fence? What the hell happens if you go outside the two-mile radius?"

"Don't know yet."

"Then take it off!"

"Can't."

Dean didn't know what was freaking him out more, Sam's utter calmness and seemingly acceptance of his situation or the fact he had no idea what the situation was, how to fix it or what to do about it. He was more disoriented than he'd thought because Sam wasn't making any sense.

"Sam, so help me it you don't start making sense I'm going to…"

"Ok, ok, okay. Just calm down." Sam said soothingly. "It has a lock and we don't have a key. We were waiting for you to wake up and try to pick it. Bobby tried, got nothing. We don't have the right tools….not finding much of anything to use among what tools they do have either."

"Wait for me? Then why did you let me sleep? And what the hell is wrong with you? You can pick a lot as easily as I can."

"I can't see behind me and I can't twist it so the lock is in the front."

"And Kelly knows this how?"

"Her Grandmother."

"The witch, so….let me guess…..the…that is …..?" all he could manage to do was wave his hands about, searching for words that he couldn't force past his clenched teeth. "The lock is..."

"Charmed." Sam supplied helpfully.

"Of course." Dean spat, kicking the dirt. "And Grama can tell us how, right?"

"The girls say she can. Can tell us what will happen if I go outside the two-mile circle."

"And if Grama can't fix this?"

"Then I have to meet Lottie in forty-eight hours and hand you over to her. I then have to relinquish all claims to you and allow you to live happily ever after with her." Sam didn't want too, tried not to, but he couldn't help it. The utter look of horror and disbelief on Dean's face cast him into giggles.

Dean's eyes, first went wide, and then narrowed, his mouth opened then closed several times. He tried to speak, held a finger up to gain Sam's attention, shook his head, swallowed several times and finally managed to send a murderous glare Sam's way to shut him up.


	8. Chapter 8

"This isn't funny Sam!" Dean yelled, stomping his foot which made Sam laugh all the harder. "KNOCK IT OFF!" he wanted to throw a punch, if nothing else, it would make him feel better. The entire situation was out of his control and he didn't like it one bit; didn't like that they had to depend on the good will of a stranger, one who was a witch – at all.

"Dude, seriously, chill!" Sam chuckled, last of his laughter finally dying away. "She meant to steal you, the anklet was to keep me from following and she had a spell that would make you….well, would cloak you, you know, so you'd be hidden from me."

"What the hell made her think I'd willingly go with her?" Dean exploded. "Would stay with her? Jesus Christ!"

"Oh gee, Dean, I dunno, maybe because you willingly stayed with her at the cabin for two weeks! And why are you yelling at me?"

"Because you don't seem to care about any of this! You're standing there laughing!"

"What would you rather me do? Cry? Freak out? Have a psychotic break? Suffer a mental fit?"

"Yes! Ok? Yes! Any of that, all of it, if it means you're taking this seriously!"

"Ok, first, stop yelling at me. I didn't do this Dean…..don't go getting all mad at me…and I'm taking this seriously, serious enough to believe I shouldn't try leaving."

"Damn right, I'm mad at you, this is ALL YOUR FAULT!" he poked his finger into Sam's chest.

"MY…..MY FAULT?" Sam spit out. "How the HELL can you possibly twist this around to blame me?"

"Whose bright idea was it to send me away because I sneezed?"

"Bobby's! And you were doing a hell of a lot more than sneezing! I seem to recall a rather wet-phlegm cough that had you hacking up green shit!" Sam jabbed a finger back at him. "You picked her up, you took her home, you kept her, you didn't call me and when I got there, you didn't make her leave! If anyone deserves blame, it's you!"

"You're as crazy as she is!"

Sam went white, pulling back and stepping away when Dean reached out a hand in apology, realizing he'd over stepped. "Don't." Sam turned away. "Just….don't."

Dean's fist flayed the bark from a nearby tree. He stalked away, not taking a minute to realize Sam had only turned away from him, not walked away.

***000***

Bobby stood with the girls on the porch of the cabin where they had been joined by an older woman in her late sixties whose arrival had gone unnoticed by the feuding brothers.

"And, they're close, you say?" she commented in amusement, watching hands wave and heads bob. "Uh-huh."

"Normally." Bobby heaved a sigh. "Under a bit of stress these days."

"A bit, huh?" she shook her head. "Let's start with the one with the anklet." she started off the porch and across the expanse of lawn towards Sam who still stood outside the shed. "We can go into town and get we need. Hi Sam, I'm Grams, how you doing?"

"Looking for ways to dispose of a brother." he muttered, pushing his hair back. "Hey."

"So, let me see how she's got you strapped in here." Grams knelt and Sam raised his foot to rest on a fallen tree limb so she could inspect the anklet. "Aaw, amateur lock, no biggee, won't be able to pick it though."

"We tried, meant for Dean to try...so, you can get it off, right?" Sam let his breath out in huge sigh of relief. "When? Soon? Like now?"

"Guessing by the argument I just witnessed, she didn't make off with the object of her affection." Grams stood up. "Which means she hasn't used the cloaking spell to hide him from you. Good, I can render that particular spell ineffective."

"How long would that spell have worked?" Sam asked. "Would it have hid him from Bobby as well?"

"From anyone she wished to hide him from, yes. Something tells me you never would have given up looking for him."

Sam shook his head. "Course not. How did she expect to keep him with her anyway? Was there a spell for that?"

"Yes, but it would have worn off after a month or so. I think she truly believes once she can separate him from you, he will be content to stay with her and build a life."

"But that'll never happen!"

"I know." Grams sighed. "Don't worry, I can bind her….erhm…powers…..neither you nor your brother will have to worry about her coming after either of you again." she turned as Dean came up behind her. "Huh." she grunted. "Girl does have good taste…did you check him over for any signs of a spell?" she tilted her head, both Sam and Bobby nodded. "He's been sick." she stated, hands going to her hips.

"Is that a problem?" Bobby asked. "We had his blood checked…. a doc familiar with a hunter's life said he's just sick."

"I agree." Grams announced. "I taught Charlotte quite a bit, but nothing on how to make a person sick…..how long has he been ill?"

"Two weeks or so." Sam gave it some thought. "More like three, I guess, we left Gavin's and he was doing better, but a week later, we pulled off the road and I took him to the clinic for more antibiotics. We met up with Bobby the next day. That was about a week ago. He's been feeling better. Then we got a lead on Lottie, came here and course, now, he….well….."

"Ok, let's all go inside. I need some coffee while I see what all I need to break the charm on that lock." Grams clapped her hands. "So, no signs on him, right? No bites or hickies or scratches in shape of a crescent moon? She didn't carve a collection of stars anywhere on him?"

"AAh, he said no." Sam grimaced, lowering his head under her direct stare. "What'd I do?"

"You didn't look yourself?" she asked in amazement. "You took his word for it?"

"Aah, what? Rush him, tackle him, sit on him and have a looksee for myself? Lady, I'll pay to stand here and see you try."

Sam scoffed. "I told him to use a mirror."

"I'm right here." Dean was rubbing at his eyes with curled fists. He now had a headache which he attributed to the yelling match with Sam. He only wanted to go lie down, crawl back into bed and submit to the luring beckoning of sleep. If Grama was here, there was no reason he shouldn't be able to retreat to solitude and let Bobby take care of the situation.

He glanced at Grama.

"There are no marks or signs or anything else showing she marked me in any way and whether you agree or not, you'll have to take my word for it." he swallowed back sudden nausea and reached for the wall. Downing some aspirin and getting the hell away from everyone became his goal.

"So, about this lock?" Bobby said. "Cursed? Enchanted?"

"Charmed." Grams was saying as she and Bobby turned around and headed towards the cabin. "She's a novice, learns quick though. So, how sick has he been anyway?"

Sam stared at Dean, waiting for him to either speak or enter the shed. "So?" he said finally. "You ok or what?"

"Unless you want to know what it feels like to have the imprint of that screwdriver on your forehead, I suggest you walk away." he entered the shed, Sam followed but hung back out of striking distance. "Sam, go away."

"I will, just….what are you going to do out here?" no answer, Sam sighed. "You…..look, don't be out here to long, ok? It's only been like eight hours since…"

"Yeah, well, sleep does me wonders right?" sarcasm crept into his voice. "Just go Sam. Please?"

"Fine." Sam stepped backwards through the door. "An hour Dean, and then I'm willing to risk the wrath of Sir Dean himself and will come drag you back inside."

"Sam! GO!" he growled, all thoughts of aspirin and bed deserted him. He'd been hoping to never lay eyes on Lottie again. To hear they would have to confront her to free Sam pissed him off and he didn't want to have to talk about it or anything else right now. He wanted - needed to be left alone.

Sam held his hands up in surrender and turned around to walk away. "One hour." he tossed back over this shoulder.

In the cabin, Sam was pushed into a chair, his foot pulled into Gram's lap and pelted with questions as Grams worked on the lock and was brought up to date on the entire saga by discussing the past month with Bobby.

"Well." Grams said two hours later. Sam was all but asleep, lulled by the warmth of the cabin and the feeling of safety. "I can break it. I should have everything I need at my house. Kelly, you take my car and go with Bobby and get everything on this list. Drop him off to look for Dean's car. Charlotte doesn't have it yet and it's best she don't find it. Both Dean and Sam are safe here with me, protected from Charlotte; she won't come near either of them as long as they are with me."

"What about Lottie's forty-eight hour deadline?" Bobby asked.

"Meaningless." Grams grinned. "She can't touch or hurt Sam unless he leaves the protection of this cabin. She can't take Dean either as long as he remains here. See? Simple as that." she finished writing her list and handed it along with her car keys to Kelly. "Get going with you, don't dawdle and keep an eye out for Charlotte." she gave Sam's knee a pat to wake him up. "Best go see what that brother of yours is doing; it's time he come in and get something to eat."

***000***

Sam stepped into the bedroom he was sharing with Bobby and Dean and closed the door behind him. It was a relief to finally be alone and have a moment to submit to the weariness that had settled into his bones upon being roused from his sleep induced stupor in the chair next to the fire.

He'd seen Bobby and Kelly off, dragged an unwilling and cranky Dean in from the shed, coerced/threatened him into eating some beef stew and warm bread, chopped enough wood and carried it inside to keep the fire going until morning, washed up at the creek and was now ready for some Sam time. His shoulder hadn't recovered fully from carrying Dean and the added motion of swinging the axe had brought him to tears so he'd swallowed some ibuprofen on an empty stomach and they were making him drowsy.

He sat down on the bed and untied his boots. He didn't have any clothes to change into, wouldn't until Bobby returned with the Impala but just the removal of his boots made him less weary. He glanced sideways at the bed, Dean was currently asleep out on the sofa where Grams had decreed it best he stay due to the warmth from the fire and Bobby wouldn't be back for hours. What would it hurt if he took the bed for a few hours? It was large enough to sleep two adults but being the one who'd been sick and later hurt, the bed would by default, go to Dean, the chair to Bobby, leaving Sam the floor.

He was so tired his eyes kept drooping and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't leave, couldn't help Bobby or Kelly, Dean was inside and asleep and under the watchful eye of Grams. He'd looked everywhere he could within the two-mile circle for the Impala and there was nothing to do but leave its recovery up to Bobby.

Until morning, when water needed to be carried inside and heated for bathing, there was nothing and no one that required his attention. Decision made, he unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his jeans and crawled under the blankets. It had been a long day and it wasn't like he slept soundly these days, if he was needed, someone would come get him.

When Dean woke up, it was daylight. At first he thought he'd only dozed for a few minutes but the sun was coming through the front window, not shadowed through the back like it had been when he'd lain down. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, feeling the rough, unshaven beginnings of an itchy beard. He swung his feet to the floor and sat until the previous day's events came back to him.

"Fuck." he lowered his head into his hands.

"Good Morning." a cheery voice chirped. "Sleep well?"

"Where's Sam?" he cleared his throat, tongue trying to scrape what felt like mold from his teeth. Coffee, he needed coffee. He was still dressed except for his boots so he pulled the blanket from his lap and tossed it aside. "Time is it?"

"Bit after seven. Bobby brought your car back; it's all in one piece with everything intact."

"Where is he?"

"He left. I didn't have two ingredients I need to break the charm at the house so he and Kelly are off in search of both. Might take a day or two, one has to be grown and can't be harvested before it's maturity, so they have to find someone who is currently growing and is close to being ready for harvesting. I know of several people who have it and sent them off to inquire and retrieve it. No worry, you're both ok here."

"Great." he couldn't seem to care. "And the other?"

"There's a little store in town that sells it. Are you hungry?"

"Maybe later. Where'd you say Sam was?" might as well get up and start the day.

Day or two, my ass, Sam thought after the delay in obtaining the missing ingredients was explained to him. He snorted as he lugged a bucket of hot water outside the cabin to wash with. He was as happy as Dean to see the car. Now he could brush his teeth, shave, wash his hair and change his clothes.

The day was spent carrying water, chopping more wood, going through the inventory of the Impalas trunk and with Grams guidance, approaching the invisible barrier that kept him captive. When the anklet began to vibrate and hum, she wouldn't let him go any further, saying it was best they wait for Bobby and Kelly to return with the final two ingredients. So it was back to the cabin where more water was heated and their clothes and towels were washed and hung on a line that had to be strung between two trees to dry.

It was only four o'clock in the afternoon and he was exhausted. Dean had been quiet and withdrawn all day, content to sit in the car and putter around doing god only knew what and pretty much leaving Sam on his own. Bobby had called with the news the store was out of whatever the hell Grams had sent them after and they were driving to the city that was over three hours away. They had the time, the herb that was needed, wouldn't be ready for two days and that was only if the rain held off.

Whatever, Sam rubbed his forehead. Grams had some concoction boiling on the stove and the smell was noxious. It actually made him want to vomit and he had to fight it back a couple of times. At first, he'd had the awful thought it was dinner and had escaped outside with a book he'd retrieved from the Impala to avoid the smell. He'd been disabused of that notion when Carrie came out the backdoor to ask if he would go with her to dig up some potatoes from the garden for dinner.

Garden? What garden? He shrugged, set his book aside and got up to follow her. He stumbled a bit, feeling a bit weak-kneed. He chalked it up to being stressed and yesterday's activities and shrugged it off. So, he felt light-headed and was bone-weary and kneeling in the dirt made him downright dizzy but hell, he wasn't used to playing frontiersman. How the hell did people ever survive in the days when everything was done by hand and lasted from sun-up to sun-down?

"Haven't seen you all day." Grams set a plate in front of Dean once Sam had finally coaxed him out of the car and into the cabin for dinner. "How are you feeling? Any shortness of breath?"

"I'm good."

"And your eyes? Sight ok?"

"Yeah." his vision had cleared the day before. He supposed he ought to thank Sam for keeping his hands from digging at his eyes more than he had. After eating, he helped lug in more water to do dishes then returned to the car until it was dark and Sam whined until he agreed to return to the cabin for the night.

Sam swung the axe, falling forward with the motion. Wood, wood and more wood. He'd never realized how much wood fires consumed. When the axe slipped from his numb fists, he called it a night. He'd either hit his foot or drop the axe when he slung it over his head, which was heavy and achy, and cut his back, giving Dean yet another reason to be mad at him. If more wood was required, it would have to wait until morning. He needed to go lay down and hopefully he'd feel better when he woke up.

"Good morning." Grams greeted when Dean got up the following morning. Still no Bobby or Kelly. "Breakfast? Pancakes."

"Sam up?"

"No." she handed him a mug. "There's hot water if you want to wash."

"Man, what is it with that kid?" Dean sighed walking over to the stove and reaching for the pot of hot water to add to the coffee in the mug.

"You do know he's running a fever, don't you?" Grams commented casually. "I peeked in on him this morning. He was so tired last night I thought something might be up."

Dean paused, pouring the water into the mug. "What?"

"Sam, he's been running a fever since last night." her tone softened. She recalled Dean hadn't been well himself and realized he probably wasn't aware his brother was hiding how he felt. "I haven't asked him about it, nor has he said anything, but...I know he is."

"Dammit."

"I'd say, more than likely it's just a virus, maybe he caught something from you."

"Great." Dean slammed out the back door. This had been what he and Bobby had been trying to avoid and to learn that everything they'd been through; Dean getting sick and being sent away, shacking up with an unstable stalker and tripping out on codeine; suffering through a doctor visit with Sam by his side, to being taken down with mere pepper spray by a seventeen year old girl and being tasered had all been for naught, was more than he could deal with before coffee.

Why hadn't Sam said he wasn't feeling good? Dumb ass. Dean went over to the car and rooted through the now organized mess in the trunk and pulled out every bottle of aspirin, Tylenol and ibuprofen they had. He also snagged his unfinished bottle of antibiotics and returned to the cabin. It was going to be another long day.


	9. Chapter 9

Carrie wiped her hands on a towel and set the bowl of soup aside, looking up at her grandmother who stood staring down at the man in the bed who was besting them at every turn. Her grandmother had never been unable to nurse a human through an illness. This one was proving both stubborn and resilient. Grams had tried just about everything she knew and while she wasn't ready to yet admit defeat, she was beginning to worry that for the first time in her life, she may not be enough. They'd given him the last of the antibiotics the doctor had prescribed for Dean and all she had left was Tylenol and soon, she'd be out of that.

She'd have taken him straight to the nearest ER but to try to move him while still locked into the anklet could kill him or maim him for life. Grams blamed herself for this, the situation, his failing health, his brother's frustration and feeling of helplessness. She and she alone had been duped by the girl she'd known as a toddler. By the girl she had watched grow up alongside her granddaughters as their best friend. When had Charlotte turned into an obsessive, sadistic girl bent on getting her own way?

"He won't eat anything." Carrie said despondently. "Won't even open his mouth." she picked up a cloth, wet it with cool water and used it to gently dab the sweat from Sam's face and neck. "Took some water earlier for Dean, but not a lot, not…enough. Do you think Bobby will get back in time?"

"Hope so." Grams said absently, mind already working on her next plan of action. Sam's earlier stroll to the two-mile barrier had proved Lottie hadn't failed to work the charmed lock properly. Gram's would have to break the charm and to do that, she needed all the ingredients she had sent Bobby and Kelly in search of. She knew all about the lock and the charm that kept it locked. She'd taught Charlotte everything the girl knew.

All the anklet would do should he try to leave the two-mile circle was zap him with a force that would render him temporarily paralyzed. Temporary being at least a week; the vibration and humming when he had neared the end of the safe zone had told her what spell Lottie had used. The silly girl hadn't wanted to kill him or seriously injure him, just prevent him from coming after Dean.

It was a harmless spell that would eventually wear off but with Sam being as weak as he was, she wasn't at all certain temporary paralysis was all he would suffer; it was chance she wouldn't take. She was convinced Sam's illness had nothing to do with Lottie or any spell, that it was natural and current medical attention would doubtless aid him better than she could, she just needed to keep him alive until she could make it safe for him to get the help he needed.

"You'd best go child." Grams said. "Dean doesn't want you in here with Sam." she took Carrie's vacated seat and picked up the bowl of soup. Maybe Sam would trust an old woman over the girl who had sprayed his brother in the face with pepper spray. She stirred the soup, it was still warm and she inhaled the wonderful aroma. If he wouldn't eat it, she would, Clam Chowder was her favorite. She wiped the bottom of the spoon on the edge of the bowl and held it to Sam's mouth. "Come on kiddo."

Sam felt the spoon nudging against his lips and knew someone wanted him to eat. He wrinkled his nose at the smell yet parted his teeth and licked at the pro-offered spoon. He heard the voices, knew they were female and the lack of a masculine one meant no one would be able to force him to swallow.

"See!" Carrie exclaimed as he made a face and spit the soup out. "That's all he does! It's like he can't swallow!"

"He doesn't like it." Grams smiled, wiping the soup from his chin. "Okay, ok….kiddo…I get it… I do…." she ate the soup before it could grow cold then set the bowl aside and got up to go in search of Dean. "Dean?" Grams came out onto the porch behind him. "What does he like to eat?"

"What?" he was sitting outside on the porch step and didn't even bother to turn around when Grams came out. He was whittling a stick to the shape of a crude car. He remained distant and quiet, becoming even more so when Sam had gone down with a fever.

"Sam, I need him to eat and he doesn't appear to like Clam Chowder….."

"Oh." he was quiet. "No, he's not fond of fish or seafood. We grew up in the mid-west, not a lot of opportunities to try seafood, you know?"

"Our choices are somewhat limited. I can send Carrie into town, what will he eat?"

"Does it matter?" Dean asked wearily. "I don't plan on staying here, soon as Bobby returns and you pop that lock, we're leaving."

"I don't have a problem with it, but we have to keep him comfortable until Bobby gets back."

"Whether he eats soup or not isn't going to matter." Dean turned around to face her. "All he needs is to drink."

"It does matter." she corrected gently. "He can't grow any weaker and Bobby might be another day or two. Those last two ingredients aren't proving as easy to obtain as I thought. Sam is safe here from Charlotte but not from a natural illness."

"Tomato soup then."

"I have some. I'm still sending Carrie into town, I'll be out of Tylenol by morning. Do you need anything?"

"I'll go." he stuck the knife into the wood plank next to his hip and stood up. "She's not driving my car…" he frowned as she shook her head. "What?"

"You can't leave here Dean, not until I can bind whatever powers Charlotte has learned to use. You are as protected here with me as your brother is." and she wasn't going after Charlotte until Sam was out of any and all danger, be it from Lottie, the anklet or the fever.

"She won't…..well ok, but…I'll chance it…."

"I can't let you do that, besides Sam seems to be more content when he knows you're near, I'll send Carrie."

"Sam won't care where I am." Dean shrugged. "As you said, he's safe with you…"

"He'll care if he wakes up and asks where you are and I tell him you went off alone. Even if he weren't currently sick in bed with a high fever, he can't go after you Dean, not until I get that anklet off."

"I know she means something to you, but I lay eyes on her, I'm likely to shoot her."

"Another reason you are staying here, I don't want you in that situation." Grams said. "What can Carrie get for you from town?"

***000***

Bobby called later that night; they were on their way back, would be there by morning with a refill of Dean's antibiotics and both missing ingredients for the spell needed to break the lock. All they had to do was get Sam through the night and by morning; they could take him to the hospital and get him the help he needed. Though Dean agreed he wouldn't deny Sam medical attention, he made it clear he wasn't at all happy with the idea of having Sam admitted to a hospital.

"Grams?" Carrie paused in the doorway. Dean had left the cabin, but he hadn't gone far and there was no way she was going to risk raising his wrath a second time. Dean had been ok with her being with his brother until Sam had become restless and vocal about her presence. Since then, she'd been ordered not to go anywhere near him and when Dean had found her sitting on Sam's bed, she'd found herself up against the wall with two hands around her throat. Grams had been able to call Dean off but the moment had been fraught with tension.

"What dearie? You really should stay in the other room." Grams sat in a chair next to the bed, wet cloth in her hand.

"How is he?" she shifted her weight to her opposite foot. "Dean's outside."

"Not good. If we could get his fever to break, I'd feel a lot better." she cast Sam a dubious look. "Enter child, no harm will come if you come stand next to me."

"You've never not been able to break a fever before. Why is his different?"

"I wish I knew Carrie. I've tried everything I know to do. Tea, every herbal remedy I've ever heard of, bathing him with cool water, medication…I get it down but can't keep it down…..the antibiotics were helping but….maybe a cold bath would help but there is no tub here and we…"

"Okay, so…I mean, well…but….." she'd heard her grandmother and Dean discussing Sam's condition. She glanced at Sam, she was used to him issuing threats and portraying violence and to see him so listless and helpless unnerved her.

"If you have a suggestion, don't be shy." Grams reached out to give the girl's hand a comforting squeeze. She was wise and knowledgeable but she was always willing to listen to suggestions and ideas. It was how she raised her own daughter and it was how she was seeing her granddaughters raised. "Speak up child."

"It's just….if we can't bring the water to him, can't we take him to the water?"

Grams looked confused for a moment then her face cleared and she clapped her hands as a huge smile spread across her face. She rose to her feet and grabbed Carrie to place a kiss on either cheek.

"You are my smart girl." she pushed the girl aside and went charging through the cabin, calling for Dean as she went. Carrie looked down at Sam, who chose that moment to stir, eyes opening as he muttered words she couldn't make out.

"Ssh." she soothed, standing next to the bed. She didn't try to touch him, he didn't tolerant her grandmothers touch unless Dean was with him. "You're okay Sam, just relax…it's ok…." he didn't seem to mind her voice and as long as she kept talking he laid still, stopped trying to sit up and fell silent, so she took her grandmothers chair and began to tell Sam about the going-ons on her soap opera. It didn't seem to matter what she talked about, it only mattered that he heard her voice. The worst that could happen to her should Dean discover her next to his brother's bed was suffering the indignity of being bodily removed from the room and carried outside to be deposited on her ass in the mud.

"Dean? Dean? There you are. Can you carry him?"

"Guess." he shrugged. "If I hafta, would rather not…..why?"

"Then Carrie and I will help you, we need to take him down to the stream."

"Where?"

"Just…come on…."

Dean didn't question her nor did he voice his doubts. He silently lugged his brother out of bed, through the cabin, across the yard and down to the stream bank. He grudgingly allowed the two women to help him carry Sam by each holding a leg but he wasn't happy about it and anyone looking at his face knew that. He could have carried his brother by himself but didn't feel Sam would benefit from being slung upside down over his shoulder, especially since there was no need for him to have to do so.

"Get in." Grams ordered when Dean stopped at the edge of the water.

"Do what?" he raised his knee to boost Sam higher up his chest to keep a good grip. He began to understand what Grams wanted and he took several deep breaths to try to quell his rising panic. No, no, just…no. This couldn't be happening, he would do anything for Sam, face every fear and dislike and annoyance to ensure his brother was happy and safe. But this? He could force himself in, had before, would again but that didn't mean he had to like it and he felt he had earned the right to be pissy about it.

"Can't you swim?" Grams asked gently. "Ok, no matter, Carrie….."

"No!" Dean bit out. No way he was letting that bitch sit in the water and hold Sam while they waited for the cold, running water to do what they couldn't, break Sam's fever. If that's what it took, if Grams thought there was even a slight chance it would work, he would set aside his irrational dislike of being wet and stay in the stream as long as needed, but boy, once Sam was on his feet, Dean was going to deliver a well-placed punch and knock him the hell out. "No, I can swim, it's just…..I hate being wet, you know?" he clenched his teeth and forced himself to wade into the stream. He wasn't scared of water, had no fear of being in it, but had he a choice; he would stay far away from it, especially if it were cold water. He didn't mind hot showers, would even take a hot bath to ease aching muscles and swollen joints but he no longer voluntarily went swimming.

"Over there." Grams pointed. "You'll have to hold him, are you ok with that? I don't want him trying to get out or thrash about in delirium. He could easily slip and fall and hit his head. There's no danger of him being swept away, but he could drown if….."

"I've got him." Dean closed his eyes, bit his lip, uttered a prayer to….well a prayer anyway and lowered both himself and Sam into the cold water. The women dropped Sam's legs and Grams helped Dean get as comfortable as he could get while sitting on rocks, in a cold stream with his brother held between his legs and his head resting comfortably against Dean's belly. The things he willingly did for this kid, geesch.

"Carrie will sit with you for a while." Grams said. "Help you stay awake. I'll relieve her in two hours."

"Two hours?" Dean's head came up. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

"No, I'll bring hot coffee in an hour or. I doubt his fever will break before morning, if at all. Dean, can you do this? If you need…"

"No, I'm good." he didn't sound at all convincing and he knew it. Grams was looking at him oddly and he was pretty sure he hadn't fooled her with his insistence that he was fine. She lingered, trying to decide if she should push him, but the set look of determination on his face must have convinced her to leave well enough alone because she finally nodded and headed back to the house.

"God Sam." he lowered his head, cheek bumping against sweat-dampened hair. Since no one was around to see him and the only person alive who would have the balls to tease him about it currently lay insensible in his arms, Dean let his head rest where it had fallen and took comfort in the fact Sam was alive and with him. He'd forgotten about Carrie but she said nothing, just sat cross-legged on the bank and stared up at the sky.

"Do you know any of the constellations?" she asked after a while. "Help me find the Big Dipper, though technically, it's not a constellation, or Orion's Belt, they're usually the easiest to find."

Dean wanted to growl at her, scare her into silence but he realized she was trying to distract and amuse him, so what could it hurt to get his mind off the cold water and Sam's precarious health? Might as well play nice, he could always throw her into the water and hoped she drowned later, when he was warm and dry and Sam sleeping a natural sleep.

***000***

Sam stirred, trying to ease off his butt because it was numb and it hurt. He frowned, that didn't make sense, numb and painful at the same time? He raised a hand, wanting to feel his forehead but an odd resistance prevented him from doing so. He could move his hand and his arm but there was a force that tugged it away from his body where he wanted it to remain. He was cold, and his whole body felt heavy, odd, like he had no control over the force that constantly tried to tear him apart. He frowned, beginning to feel trapped. He tried to remain calm as he attempted to become familiar with his situation. He didn't immediately place the sounds he could clearly hear nor could he identify by sight what he was seeing.

Water. He could definitely hear running water, babbling like a creek out in the middle of the woods, but that couldn't be right, could it? The last he remembered, he'd been coaxing Dean out of the car and into the cabin for the night. Dean! Shit, where the hell was Dean? He wouldn't willingly be anywhere near a creek so why was Sam? His instinct for survival stepped up to take control and he went rigid as he fought to bring his thoughts coherent.

As the fog cleared from his mind, he became aware the surface he was laying on was hard, unyielding and uneven. It wasn't at all comfortable, he was being poked in his elbow, his hip and his head, well that was cradled against something a hell of a lot softer than what was poking him in his lower back. Must be the mud on the bank because if he knew nothing else, he knew he was definitely lying in a creek. What the hell was he doing in a creek and how the fuck did he get there? How long had he been there? Was anyone missing him, were they looking for him?

"Sammy?" a recognizable grunt and it intruded on his thoughts and his mind abruptly changed paths, no longer focused on his situation. Because, he knew that voice and knew he wasn't in the water alone.

Sam stopped moving, stopped trying to gain purchase and sit up on the slippery rocks. He knew only one person called him Sammy, yet, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He tilted his head back, expecting to taste mud but there was no bank, only a wall of wet denim and a chin that wasn't quite holding steady.

"Sam? You awake?"

"Dean?" he raised one hand out of the water. "I'm, ugh….mumph." words hadn't quite yet managed to form around his tongue. "M…nawl….et."

"What? Oh, you're all wet, yeah, I know." Dean reached for his hand. "Hey."

"Why…am I all wet? Am I in a creek?" with Dean's voice to guide him, he was finding it easier to focus and become clear-headed. "Shit."

"Um, well, yeah, yeah you are."

"Oh." he tried to remember how he'd gotten there, but nope, nothing. "Did, I, aah, pull a you? Flip out and run away?" definitively becoming much easier to talk.

"No." Dean started to sit up, but cramped muscles convinced him to sit tight a bit longer.

"K, so….." he moved his legs, raising his knees so his feet could brace his legs against the creek bed. "Lottie find us?"

"No." his lower back screaming in protest, Dean forced himself to release his grip on Sam when the younger man whimpered and twisted against him. Drowning him now that his fever had broken probably wasn't the best way to help speed his recovery. He would need to recover his strength in record time. Three days of not eating and only managing to swallow sips of water; weakened lungs from being forcefully submerged and restrained under water would not be conducive to a speedy recovery.

"You've been on your ass with a fever over a 104 for three days Sam." Dean managed to loosen his jaw and forced his tongue to work. "Didn't respond to Tylenol or sponge baths with cold water…"

"God!" Sam groaned in mortification. "Please, not you!" he begged. It was bad enough to discover his current place of rest, worse to know he'd forced Dean in the water with him but it would be positively unacceptable for Dean to have been the one to have taken care of him.

"No." Dean assured him. "Grams had the pleasure of nursing you."

"Who?"

"Look, can we play twenty questions in the house? I ain't exactly comfortable here."

"Oh." Sam jumped, guilt flooding warmth through him despite the cold water. He wore a t-shirt and underwear and the goose bumps all over his body were the size of dimes. He managed to sit up only because Dean sat up with him and gave him support. He didn't have either the strength or coordination to pull away from his brother's hold.

"Give it a minute." Dean's voice was in his ear. Sam flinched, reaching with his hand for Dean's knee, needing the contact to calm his frayed nerves. It scared him to realize how weak he was. "It's ok….you've been down a couple of days, is all. Sit for a bit." he let go of Sam and once Sam let go of his leg, stood up and tried to stretch his muscles and ease the kinks out of his cold, aching joints.

"Dean?' Carrie came running down the hill. Dean reached his hands over his head as high as his arms would go, squatted several times, then lowered himself behind his brother, grabbed him under the arm pits, pushed up with his cramped thigh muscles and stood up, his knotted shoulders hauling Sam up with him. Carrie ran right into the water, splashing her way to Sam's left side and popping herself under his arm.

"Can he make it?" she asked, feeling him shake against her. "How are you? You ok?"

"To the bank at least." Dean muttered. He wasn't so sure Sam would be able to walk back to the house and if Dean had to carry him, he would have to accept help. He'd yet to regain his coordination after spending three hours in the cold water and there was no way his legs would support Sam's added weight, they were barely supporting his own. He and Carrie managed to help Sam crawl up the muddy bank on his hands and knees and let him collapse on the wet grass. Dean went down with him, might as well take the opportunity to regain his own breath.

"I'll go get Grams." Carrie announced and took off at a run before Dean could protest.

"Them?" Sam coughed, rolling onto his back and letting his arms flop, clenching his hands into fists in an attempt to prod returning circulation along.

"You didn't give me much choice." he couldn't help himself, a hand inched towards Sam and when he didn't slap it away, rested his fingers on his brothers elbow. "You told me about their grandmother, said she might be able to help, yelled at me out by the shed and bam, you were down."

"Don't remember." his voice had weakened and Dean knew from experience Sam would soon give in and allow his body to succumb to the lure of darkness. He wasn't worried, the fever had broken and now Sam needed to sleep. "Bobby?"

"In town."

Sam pushed his palms into the grass and forced himself up, settling for reclining on his elbows. "Wait, so…..you…..alone?" he let his eyes close. He couldn't recall why, but he knew, he just knew, he'd been the one looking out for the both of them, before…well, before waking up in a creek. What the hell had happened? He frowned, trying to force the scattered images shooting through his mind into one cohesive thought and failing. He simply wasn't strong enough to fight nature's elements and his body's weakened state so with a whimper, he went limp in the wet grass.

"Lucky me." Dean heaved a sigh and climbed to his feet. "I'm so tired of hauling your ass about, course, you hauled mine over your shoulder for a couple of miles, so guess I shouldn't complain."

Grams and Carrie were there and helped Dean carry him back to the cabin where Dean helped Grams settle Sam in bed. Once Grams was satisfied that his brother was dry, dressed, and warm and sleeping peacefully, tucked snuggly into bed, she made it her mission to tackle Dean.

Leaving Carrie to sit with Sam, Grams hustled him off to the kitchen where pots of water had been boiled so he could wash up with hot water and dress in warm clothes. Grams bullied him into eating hot soup, added some warm brandy to his coffee and ordered him to bed on the sofa. Grams and Carrie would have the honor of keeping vigil over Sam, if she needed him, Dean was only a wall away.


	10. Chapter 10

"Well?" Grams came up behind Bobby. "What are you thinking? You know him pretty well."

Bobby didn't turn nor speak, just stood inside the door and stared at Sam who was by all appearances, sleeping peacefully. Dean was still asleep out on the couch and Bobby had decided it best to leave him be. Sam though, well, Grams had called Kelly to have them bring a thermometer and despite her insistence that Sam's fever had broken, Bobby wasn't happy to return and find it holding steady at 101.

"You say Dean went willingly into that water and sat there for how many hours?" Bobby's tone was doubtful, his expression weary.

"Over three, and while I wouldn't exactly say willingly, he didn't refuse."

"Sam doesn't usually run a fever, I mean…..you sure that dart from Lottie didn't….?"

"I'm sure." she said firmly but with a gentle tone. "He's weak and worried and with lack of sleep and proper diet, he's worn down, done in."

"Okay, yeah, see, here's the thing, they don't get fevers. Sure as hell not out of the blue and with no other symptoms, Sam hasn't had a cough or a sniffle or a sneeze…..well, ok, yeah I was gone for a couple of days, but…." Bobby sighed. "With everything that kid has been through in his life, and I'm telling you, it would have killed anyone else, not once, did he ever make himself sick, not ever." he stressed, at a loss what to believe. "It just…..it doesn't make any sense."

"It's not so much what he has been through, it's more about Dean." Grams had learned quite a bit about the brothers over the last several days. "Being separated from him, dealing with Charlotte, knowing his brother turned to someone else, hearing him admit there was no one in his life he could call, finding out Dean wouldn't have called him, seeing his reaction to a medication that had Sam been with him, he wouldn't have had, seeing his brother hurt…tasered."

"That's all a load of crap." Bobby scoffed. "Sam knows better."

"Maybe. But you said he's….look, sound of mind or not, you're the one who told me about the first incident with the taser, how did you expect Sam to take it?"

"Not by making himself sick!" Bobby growled. "Dean's fine, he was never really in any danger….."

"Does Sam have the ability to understand that?"

"Yes!"

"Carrie told me Dean passed out in his arms, causing Sam to pull a gun on her, threatening to kill her. Are you going to tell me Sam wasn't reacting to Dean's unusual reaction? Something tells me Dean doesn't seek comfort in his brother's arms."

"Well….balls!" Bobby remembered barreling through the door and falling to his knees from the emotion that hit him upon seeing the sight on the floor in front of him.

"We can give him the antibiotics you returned with, they seemed to help but antibiotics aren't usually prescribed to treat a fever, more Tylenol…." she said doubtfully. She thought it best to take him in and get him some IV meds and fluids, he was dangerously close to dehydration and while the cold water had broken his fever, it hadn't done much for his body temperature and other complications could still arise. "I don't know their history Bobby, but I bet you'll tell me should I ask, whatever…trauma or experience Sam was going through, Dean was a solid strength he could lean on and draw from."

"Break the spell on the lock and we'll take him in." Bobby said finally. He didn't want too, had been trying to avoid taking Sam anywhere near a hospital, but they couldn't afford to have him go down with an illness for any length of time. This past month had been enough time wasted and if Sam had a break with reality or a mental lapse while in the hospital Dean would just have to come up with a way to break his brother out of a psyche ward.

"Maybe you should see what Dean wants to do." Grams suggested, but Bobby was shaking his head before she finished her sentence.

"He's had enough put on him as it is. This is one time someone else needs to make a decision, break the charm and we go."

***000***

This first thing Sam was aware of when he returned to the land of the conscious was the annoying pull of adhesive tape on his arm; that more than the sounds and smells told him he was in the hospital. Any other person would have lain still, content in the knowledge they were safe and being treated and that within a reasonable amount of time, a family member would pop in to tell them what was going on. But, not him, no, he needed all his wits present and accounted for so he could take in his situation and plan his escape. He couldn't count on anyone coming to see him, not when he didn't remember why he was in the hospital.

He opened his eyes and searched the walls for a calendar. Someone would be in shortly and upon finding him awake, expect him to know who he was, where he was, the date and day and while he had no freaking clue, he knew he had to hide the fact he didn't always deal in reality. A doctor caught even a whiff of his mental instability and he would be transferred to the psyche ward, barred from seeing Dean and involuntarily committed for thirty days for observation. Speaking of Dean, where the hell was he? Or Bobby, Sam had no idea what name he'd been admitted under and wouldn't that just go over swell.

"Well, hello there handsome." a cheerful pink-scrub wearing hospital personnel popped in. "I'm Mandy, good to see you finally awake, how are you feeling?"

"What is this?" he lifted his left arm and pointed to the needle, finger shaking from the effort. He let his arm fall back to the mattress, dismayed over the revelation at just how weak he was. It wouldn't be easy to walk out of there.

"An IV."

"I know that." he snapped irritably. "What is it giving me?"

"We stopped the Caldolor last night, when your fever finally fell under 100. That's just a saline solution; you were pretty dehydrated when they brought you in. If you feel nauseous or experience a headache, let us know, ok?"

"They? My brother? Where are they?" she was just to freaking cheery for whatever time of the morning it was.

"Your uncle took your brother for something to eat, they should be back in another half hour or so. Your cousin stepped out for just a moment. Let me ring for the nurse, would you like something to drink?"

"Wait, cousin?" yes, he would love something to drink, his mouth was so dry, his swollen tongue was cracking his lips. "No, maybe later." he let his eyes close, he'd wait until Dean or Bobby returned to satisfy his craving for water. He wanted to ask how long he'd been there, how many days but didn't dare.

He knew better than to ask when he could leave. He'd just woken up, they'd frown at him wanting the first thing upon awakening was to leave. He opened his mouth to ask about his cousin, because he damn well knew he didn't have one and she took the opportunity to stick a thermometer under his tongue. Perhaps that was for the best, wouldn't do to question the existence of a cousin he was supposed to know.

"Figures." Carrie was in the doorway, hands on her hips. "You wake up now?"

"Carrie." he should feel irritation that she was still around instead of the rush of relief he experienced upon recognizing a familiar face. He was however, grateful that Kelly wasn't with her. He may have warmed up somewhat to the youngest member of the family of witches, but he would never forgive, forget or get past the needless tasering of his already down and out brother by her sister.

"Bobby and Dean went down to the cafeteria." she stepped aside to let the nurse who was responding to the call bell into the room. "Took some convincing to get Dean to go and wouldn't you know, you go and wake up soon as he leaves."

"Dean….ok?"

Carrie shrugged. "He's…aah, little tired, you kinda wore him out, going down so quick like you did. Bobby and Kelly returned three days ago and we brought you in soon as they were back."

"Lottie?"

"Grams is out looking for her. She can't get to Dean and you're fine now…..don't worry about being here, Bobby took care of everything."

"And your sis….." cousins, they were supposed to be cousins. "Kelly? I don't want her…"

"With Grams….so…..guess while you are being poked and prodded I'll be kicked out. I'll go tell Dean you're awake." she paused, glancing at the nurse. "Unless they'll let me stay?" the curtain was yanked around the bed. "I'll just take that as a no then, be right back Sam."

Ten minutes later, the nurse and the aide left him to go back to sleep. He'd expected to see Dean and Bobby by now but wasn't too worried. Dean didn't like being taken away from food and would more than likely insist on finishing whatever Bobby had forced him to eat.

Once alone with nothing to do but think, the memory of waking up in the stream with Dean hit him. He rubbed at his jaw, great, just great, not only had he gotten sick while unable to seek medical help, he'd also forced his brother into a situation that would likely plague him with nightmares for a month. Like Dean needed anything more to keep him awake at night. Good goin' Sam. What else would he be expected to deal with while flat on his back in a hospital bed?

"Hello Sam."

His eyes flew open and he jerked upright in bed. No freaking way! Even as he tried to bring his thoughts into some sort of semblance, Lottie moved the call button out of his reach.

"Don't be alarmed." Lottie smiled. "You're under Grams' protection, I can't collar you."

"Stay away from Dean." he eased himself upright and relaxed back into the pillows.

"Dean, huh? Not you? Maybe you should worry more about yourself than your brother. Don't fuss, you made sure I can't get near him, well, Grams did…just why, Sam? Tell me why? I never wanted to hurt you, I just wanted a chance with Dean. Couldn't you give me that?"

"A chance at what? You got more from him than any other girl he's picked up in a bar over the years."

"Don't make it sound so cheap Sam. Okay, he picked me up in a bar, that doesn't make me a bad person."

"You went home with a man you didn't know, had never met and knew nothing about."

"He was alone, he looked lost and I dunno, not scared, but….." she waved the thought away. "I just wanted to make him feel better, you know? Make him smile, ease the look of loneliness from his eyes, give him something to hold onto."

"Lottie, it would have only been temporary, he never would have settled down, not with you, not with anyone."

"Not as long as he has you." she said bitterly. "A girlfriend, hell even a wife, I know how to fight, but how the hell does someone fight a brother?"

"You don't…..and it's not because I'm his brother, it's because of the life we lead, a life we never wanted, didn't ask for and have no hope of ever leaving. We've tried, we both have….our parents never wanted this to be our future….."

"A life I'd be willing to share."

"You can't."

"He shares it with you."

"I was raised in this life, it's not easy, it's not fun…..it's full of violence and fear and betrayal, a person just doesn't leave it behind and someone who has a choice, doesn't enter it."

"We could have disappeared, go where no one knew us. I could have hidden him from enemies, I would have learned how to make it permanent, if not from Grams, then from someone else….we could have had a normal life together. We would have had each other. Is that so bad? Don't you want better for him?"

"He never would have gone with you." Sam shook his head. "Spell, or no spell, it never would have worked."

"Not as long as he had you."" she repeated. "He told me he had no one, he never said he had a brother who would come after him, would fight for him."

"I can't explain why he did that. The truth is Lottie, he will always have me….you were a distraction, he was sick and he didn't want to be alone….maybe we shouldn't have sent him off the way we did. We knew better and he was pissed about it, maybe that's why he didn't say anything, I dunno…but he always finds a woman to soothe his wounded feelings, you just happened to be the one this time. He never intended it to be anything more."

"A relationship is all I wanted. We could have had….."

"You never stood a chance." Sam said quietly. "Even if he didn't have me….there wouldn't be a you…he will never leave this life Lottie and you would never be able to survive in it. It's hard and it hurts and a little piece of me withers every time he's hurt or in danger because I can't get to him in time to prevent it from happening. It turns you into a hard person bent on revenge and vengeance. You hurt him, you die, simple as that, it's the motto I live by and you don't want to become that person, it's no way to live."

"I could have - would have, taken him from that life Sam. Doesn't he deserve to be happy? To be carefree and not have to worry about you or the world in which you and Gavin and Bobby live?"

"Yeah, yeah he does, and I wish to god he could have it, but he can't and no one, not you, not me are capable of giving it to him."

"Then let me be a part of his life in his world. I can accept him for who he is Sam, I'll even accept you. I'll learn everything I need to know to survive doing what it is you do. You can teach me to shoot, and protect and hunt and how it is you know all these things." she was beginning to sound desperate, voice taking on an edge that despite his weariness, made Sam uneasy.

"It'll never work Lottie. Somewhere there may be the right girl for him, there probably is and someday, he might find her, but it's not you. It can never be you. It will be someone who is strong enough to take both him and me on without resorting to spells. Someone who doesn't expect a home or a future or him in their life, it'll be someone who is content to take what he is capable of giving, when he can give it."

"That's me. He would be with me, if he didn't have you." she insisted stubbornly. "We were fine at the cabin. Everything was great until you came along. Once you showed up, he didn't have time for me anymore, once you were with him, you were all he wanted. I know something happened to you, something bad and you aren't over it. I don't know what it is, but I know he fears for your mental stability. It wouldn't take much for me to have you committed. I could make that happen."

"He'd never leave me there." he raised his hands to rub at his eyes. Sustaining a fever for a week not only sapped his strength, it left him with one hell of a headache. He didn't want to have to deal with Lottie, he didn't want to be in the hospital, too weak to get up to walk to the bathroom. He wanted to see Dean, talk to Bobby, make sure Dean was ok and be told all was well. Where the hell were they anyway?

"I know." she was saying, pulling his attention back to her. "He'll never leave you anywhere. At first, I thought if I could get him away from you, and you couldn't find him, he'd think you'd left him or were gone but now I see the only way to separate the two of you is to make you gone, for good."

"You've got to be kidding." he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to scrunch his nose into his eyebrows. Did he really have to deal with this girl trying to kill him now? Here? In the freaking hospital? Seriously?

"I would never hurt Dean. Thanks to Grams, I can't help ease his grief but he'll have me. He'll get through it, get past losing you, I'll see to it."

"Lot-tie!" Sam groaned. "He's been there, done that, Lisa couldn't do it and you won't be able to either. You'll lose him, one way of another."

"I'm sorry Sam, I am."

Un-freak-ing believable, Sam thought as he pulled the tape from his skin and the needle out of his arm. Only he would have to fend off an unstable woman stalking his brother in his hospital room. He could hear her going on and on, babbling about Dean and being there for him and being sorry and hoping Sam understood. Hadn't Grams promised she wouldn't be able to get to Dean? He waited until she turned her back and crossed the room to close then the door then carefully slid to the side of the bed, grateful the bedrails weren't up and eased his legs to the floor. Nope, knees weren't going to support him for long, but with gritted teeth and clenched fists, he hoped it would be long enough.

"See Sam…." she turned to face him and walked back to the bed. "When all he has is me, I'll be enough." she held a syringe in her hand and raised her arm, only to come up against an invisible barrier. "What the hell?!"

"Charlotte, you foolish girl." Grams had pushed the door open. "Really? Did you really think I would leave him unprotected from you?"

"You didn't!" Lottie stopped her foot but no matter which way or how many times she tried, she wasn't able to touch Sam. "OOhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Of course I did." Grams stalked over and plucked the syringe from her hand. "I can't trust you child, you can't have Dean and you can't hurt Sam. Any knowledge you learned, any powers you gained are bonded. What ails you anyway? He's just a man and here you are trying to kill his innocent brother."

"Come on Charlotte." Kelly took hold of her arm and dragged her from the room. "Dean catches you in here, he's liable to shoot you."

No, Grams thought, Bobby would. He'd already vowed to take the girl out so neither brother would have her death on their conscience and she didn't doubt he'd hesitate to do it.

"Back in bed there kiddo." Grams pushed him down with ease. She pushed the call button so the nurse would return and reinsert the IV. "Carrie probably didn't have time to mention it, but Lottie can't get anywhere near you, well, no that's not true, she can, but she can't touch you."

"How?"

Grams reached out to twist the bracelet on his wrist that Dean had given him. "Your brother said you are never without this, so I charmed it much like she did the lock on the anklet. You can take it off, or Dean can, but no one else will be able to, as long as you are wearing it, she can't touch you. My charms are much stronger than hers, she will never be able to break it and should it ever need to be, Bobby has the counter spell."

"Thank you." he murmured tiredly. "Dean ok? I, um remember the water….he was with me….."

"He's fine." Grams assured him. "She will never be able to cast a spell on him either. I've taken care of that."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course."

"How does Lottie make coffee?"

"Coffee?" she took a step backwards in surprise. She'd expected him to ask how Dean was dealing after being forced into cold water, ask how she'd taken care of the situation so Lottie would no longer be a threat to them. But coffee? "Excuse me?"

"That's the reason Dean wouldn't throw her out, said she made the best coffee ever, and I gotta agree with him, so what makes her coffee so special? If I know, maybe I can prevent him from doing this again."

"Oh, Sam, it was more than just great coffee." she chuckled as she tucked the blankets around his legs. "She makes it with hot water." she patted his knee. "Next time your brother gets a sniffle, try taking him to a doctor and getting him some antibiotics before you choose to send him away on his own. I'm sure you noticed he doesn't do alone well."

"Everyone makes coffee with hot water." he said irritably. He wanted to see his brother and he was tired of waiting. Enough time had passed and he was through being patient. If Dean and Bobby didn't walk through that door in the next five minutes, he was going on a walk to find them. He didn't care if he had to crawl.

"Yes, but no, hot water." the nurse finally entered in response to the bell. "When you add the water to the coffee maker, add water that is already hot."

"That's it? That's the great secret?" he winced at the pinch in his hand. "Ow!" he turned his attention to the nurse who was reinserting the needle with little care.

"It didn't just fall out." she snapped. "You pulled it out."

"I…er, woke up, somewhat, um, confused."

"Confused." she snorted. "Yeah, they said you would be when you woke up." her tone clearly implied she didn't believe him. "Brought you in and asked when you could leave. Makes sense, right?" she placed a palm on his forehead and pushed his head down onto the pillow when he raised it to see that she was doing to him. "Sustained a fever over 100 for five days, dehydrated and well on your way to being malnourished and they don't want you admitted." she tsked over the sheen of sweat that had broken out on his cheeks and neck.

Sam glared.

"Tried to get up and leave, didn't you? What is it with self-righteous men self-diagnosing and claiming they know what's best to treat their illness? Hello? Anyone even bother to wonder why you were running a fever in the first place? You don't need to go looking for your brother, he will come to you." she lowered the bed, wanting him to sleep. "Now, we took blood to run tests, look for an infection, you'll just have to be content to lie here in bed for a day or so until the results come back." convinced the sweat was from the exertion of trying to get up and not from a spike in temperature, she flounced from the room with a disapproving humph.

"Guess she told you." Grams smiled. "You'll be ok Sam, everything will be ok."

Sam's eyes drifted over her shoulder to focus on what had appeared in the doorway. She cast a glance behind her, seeing Dean who lingered just outside the door, munching on a soft pretzel and giving Sam a thumbs up. He was pale and tired but his expression was relaxed, not haunted, a clear indication he was ok with the way the whole situation had turned out.

Yup, Sam silently agreed letting his eyes close, everything was going to be fine.

***END***


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